Shattered Paradise
by Alias424
Summary: Sequel to The Dream
1. Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 1: Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow

It started during the moment of silence. How ironic; a moment that was meant for peace and reflection. Instead, she was preoccupied with the dull, throbbing ache that at the time was nothing more than a minor annoyance, but that she knew would soon explode into piercing pain.

And she was right. It did. Just as the second bell rang and the last few stragglers of her first class found their way to their seats.

She gave them an assignment to work on; one that would take the entire class period. Then she frantically searched through her purse for her pills; the ones that would bring a quick end to the pounding of her head, but only if she took them soon.

She found the pill bottle, thank God; unscrewed the top, and turned it upside down. But nothing came out. She tried again, as if she thought it would somehow work the second time, but still there was nothing. Dammit.

Putting the bottle away, she pretended to busy herself with the stack of papers on her desk, as the clock slowly clicked the time away. She wouldn't make it through the rest of the day, not without her medication. She hadn't had too many of these blinding headaches in the year or so since her injury, but she had had enough of them to know that much. She only had to make it to the end of the period, and then she could go home; they could find someone else to cover her classes for the rest of the day.

Someone coughed, and she looked up. A girl in the front row had her hand raised in the air.

"Mrs. Vaughn?"

"Yes, Alicia?" Sydney asked, with all the patience and sweetness she could muster; it wasn't much.

The girl looked at her, confused. "Um, my name's Natalie…"

"Of course, Natalie. I'm sorry…Do you have a question?"

"Yeah. Could you explain the theme to me? I'm a little confused."

"Sure," Sydney responded. Thank God. A simple question on theme. She could do that. That's why she had become a high school English teacher, after all. The job was simple and enjoyable (most of the time); the answers to questions relatively straightforward. Nothing like before.

"You see, the theme of this novel is freedom and self realization," Sydney began, "because Edna…"

"Mrs. Vaughn…" A boy in the back of the room interrupted her, waving his hand in the air.

"Let me finish," Sydney snapped impatiently. "You can ask questions later."

The students gave each other strange glances as Sydney continued, but no one dared interrupt her. She finished her monologue, describing how Edna's search for independence shows the struggle that all women of her time had to endure.

"Does that answer your question?" Sydney asked with a sigh, folding her arms and sitting back in her chair. Poor Natalie only stared at her blankly.

The pain was slowly increasing with every second that passed. It felt like someone was squeezing her head in a vice, one kind of torture that she actually hadn't had the pleasure of experiencing first hand. She used to only get these headaches once every couple of months, but now…

"Mrs. Vaughn?" The boy who had interrupted her before was waving his hand in the air frantically.

"What, Luke?" Patience is a virtue, Sydney…

"Oh, my name's Ryan…."

God damn it.

"…Luke's in your next class, though…"

That's helpful.

Sydney searched through her desk for her seating chart. She hadn't needed the damn thing since the second day of school, and it was nowhere to be found in her desk.

"What is it, Ryan?"

"I was just wondering if you were okay, because…"

That was sweet. How refreshing.

"Yes, I'm fine," she answered calmly, but inside she was screaming. Michael would have known that something was wrong, but these kids hadn't a clue. But then again, how could they?

"Okay, well, that was a really nice explanation you gave us, and I'm sure we all enjoyed it and it will come in handy someday…"

"The point, Ryan?"

"Yeah, it's just, we finished The Awakening last week. We're reading Madame Bovary now. Emma, not Edna."

Sydney sighed and propped her head up with her hand. It had become too heavy to hold up. The tears were burning her eyes; she wanted so badly to cry, but couldn't. She had probably already scared these kids enough today.

"They're very similar, though…" Someone piped up from the back of the room, and the rest of the students nodded avidly.

Well, that made her feel so much better. Uh huh, the books are similar. Any high school English teacher could have made the same mistake. Pure and simple. They were easy to confuse; any double agent, who had studied literature in grad school could have done the same God damn thing…

Sydney took a deep breath and lifted her head to stare out at the twenty bright faces before her. She felt powerless. A sudden, piercing pain slammed through her head, and she gasped and brought a hand to her forehead in an effort to wave the pain away.

Just then, the bell rang, giving entirely new meaning to the phrase "Saved by the bell." The class remained seated, waiting for her to tell them that they could leave. Without looking at them, Sydney quickly gathered up her things and left the room, leaving twenty confused students whispering curiously behind her.

Sydney walked as fast as she could (there was no running in the halls, even with her head pounding, she could remember that) to the main office, ignoring the greetings of students and fellow teachers that she passed.

She glanced in, and breathlessly told the secretary that she was leaving. The secretary nodded knowingly, and Sydney left the room.

The last thing Sydney heard before she left the building was the secretary's voice droning over the intercom, "Mrs. Vaughn's second period American Literature class, please report to study hall in the cafeteria."

Vaughn stepped into his house a little after twelve, grinning from ear to ear. He had decided to come home for lunch, and obviously Sydney had as well. This life was paradise. He loved being able to spend time with her, and even though he knew that her lunch break was short, there might be time for…

His smile suddenly vanished when he saw Sydney's things scattered on the kitchen floor. Her keys, her bag, the students' papers. She was always so meticulously organized, but now Madame Bovary was scattered next to The Great Gatsby and mixed with Huckleberry Finn…

Dammit. Not again…

Without a second thought, Vaughn took a washcloth out of the drawer and ran it under cold water, letting the icy liquid saturate the cloth and run down his fingers.

He tiptoed down the hall and into their bedroom. The door was open, but the shades had been pulled down, leaving the room drenched in cool darkness.

She was lying on the bed, her arm over her face, covering her eyes.

"Syd?…Honey?…"

She didn't answer, and he sat down next to her on the bed, gently removing her arm from her face and placing the cool washcloth on her forehead. She sighed and her eyes fluttered open.

"Mike…"

"Hey, you okay?"

She shook her head slowly. He hated seeing her like this. It reminded him too much of what had happened, of what he was trying to forget…

"But I'll be okay soon."

That's what she had said the last time, and the time before that. And it would happen. Soon, she would be okay…until the next time…

"Syd, I'm worried about you. The doctor in Cairo said that you might get a headache like this every couple of months. This is the third one you've had in two weeks." He could remember each and every one she had had since they had left Cairo. He could tell you what day of the week it had been, what the weather had been like, and how long it had been before the pain left her. He could tell you everything.

"Sorry…"

"No, don't be sorry," he murmured as he leaned over and kissed her gently. "It's not your fault." It's that damn bastard's fault. That son of a bitch. If Syd's life hadn't been on the line, he would have made him pay…

"Mike," her voice was a whisper, just like it had been that day, over a year ago. "You should be getting back to work…"

"No, I'm going to stay here with you."

"You don't have to. You really should go."

They had been married a year and he still rarely refused her anything. But she wasn't going to win. Not this time.

"No, Sydney. I'm staying right here."

She closed her eyes. There were no more protests. She had given in, both to him and to the pain.

"Syd, I have to go call out of work…Did you take your medicine?"

She shook her head, eyes still closed.

"Okay, I'll get it and be right back."

He left, called Weiss and explained the situation, found Sydney's medicine, and got her a glass of water. When he returned a few minutes later, however, Sydney was no longer in bed. The door to their bathroom was closed, but he could hear her inside. She was sick. This had never happened with any of her other headaches. 

He went inside the bathroom and knelt beside her. Holding her hair out of her face and rubbing her back, as she leaned over the toilet.

Half an hour later, he helped an utterly miserable and exhausted Sydney brush her teeth, and carried her over to bed.

"Here," he said, sitting her down on the edge of the bed, and handing her a small, white pill and the glass of water he had gotten earlier. She took it and he helped her lay down. He sat beside her, wrinkles of worry creasing his forehead.

"Syd," he whispered after a moment. "I'm going to call the doctor. Get you an appointment for tomorrow…"

"But the party, Michael," she murmured. "I don't want to cancel the party."

Vaughn smiled. A month ago, they had finally moved out of his apartment and gotten a house. She had wanted to invite everyone over right away, but he had managed to convince her to wait until they had everything unpacked and put in order. They had planned their picnic for this weekend and she had been looking forward to it with so much enthusiasm that he knew it would crush her if they had to cancel it.

"It's not till the afternoon. I'll try to get you an appointment in the morning, but you're going to go."

"But…"

He brought a finger to her lips. "Shhh, Syd. Don't argue with me. You're going."

"Okay."

He kissed her warm forehead and she sighed. He watched her, as her breathing steadied and she drifted into a fitful sleep.

A little while later, he shifted to get more comfortable and reached over to pick up the phone. Her hand suddenly shot out and grabbed his wrist, startling him; but what she uttered next startled him more.

"Vaughn!?" 

Dammit. Back to yesterday. Back to Vaughn. He gazed at her; her eyes were wild and frightened.

"Syd, baby…what's wrong?" He cradled her face in his hands. Her skin was warm, and even in the dim light, he could see that her cheeks were flushed. He took off her sweater and handed her a T-shirt that he had found on the end of the bed. She shivered and let him put the T-shirt on her, still looking at her with frantic, feverish eyes.

"Syd?" he asked again, leaning closer to her.

"Vaughn…don't go…" 

Tears came to his eyes. _"Stay with me…please."_ He remembered it like it was yesterday. It would haunt him forever…

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured…_"I'm not leaving you. Never again, I promise."_

He snuggled down beside her, taking her into his arms. She shifted so that not even the tiniest amount of space separated their bodies, and clung to him tightly.

He held her and waited. Slowly, her grip relaxed, and she fell into a deep and much needed sleep.

Vaughn sighed. Today, quite frankly, had been a day from hell. A day when they seemed to fall back into old habits and fears, when their carefully constructed world, their paradise, threatened to shatter. On days like today, they took a step backward, into the pain and suffering of yesterday.

But yesterday was nothing more than a memory.

Today was almost over.

And tomorrow, the sun would shine.

I know it's a slow start, and I'm sorry. Better stuff coming soon…Please let me know what you think, it will help me decide what to put in future chapters.


	2. Another Day

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 2: Another Day

A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone! Fanatic482 – I didn't really say exactly what grade Syd taught, but the books I mentioned were ones that I read in American Lit. and AP English, so I guess that's 11th and 12th grade (at least it was in my school). It probably doesn't really matter, though. :) Thanks again!

Sydney's eyes slowly fluttered open. The shades were still drawn and the room was still dark, but the sunlight was peeking through whatever tiny spaces it could find, adding the sunny glow of morning to the room.

The pain, the sickness; both were gone, trailing on the winds of yesterday. She brought a hand to her forehead to see if it was really true. It was; yesterday was over and another day had begun.

She sighed happily. Michael's strong arms were around her, holding her, keeping her from harm. Her head rested on his shoulder, and she took a deep breath, taking in his scent, his essence. She felt his arms tighten around her as he gently kissed the top of her head.

"Morning, gorgeous."

How had she gotten so lucky? She was so madly in love with this man; there weren't any words to describe it.

"Feeling better?"

"Mmmm," she nodded and hugged him tightly. "Much better."

She turned her face up to him and felt his lips on her forehead. He held them there for a moment before planting a light kiss where they had been.

"You feel much cooler. The fever's gone."

She pulled away from him so she could see his face, look into his eyes. He looked tired, but she could tell that he had been awake for awhile. His eyes were wide open and smiling, while she was still rubbing the sleep from hers.

"What time is it?"

She felt like she had been asleep for days. It had been wonderful.

"After nine o'clock."

Wow. She never slept that late. Ever. Michael never usually slept that late either. He usually got up after her, but only by a little while. They liked to spend their mornings together. He would usually get out of bed after she had taken a shower; unless, that is, he decided to join her…

"Why didn't you get up?"

He smiled and looked down at his shirt. It was only then that she noticed her hand was clutching the soft material. It had just felt so natural, so right.

"You didn't give me much of a choice," he said with a laugh.

She took her hand away, and the cloth where it had been was covered with wrinkles. She had been holding him tightly all night.

"I'm sorry, Mike. You could have moved me…"

"Nah, I didn't want to wake you."

Her eyes moved slowly down his body, taking him in. She loved this; being able to stay in bed with him, look at him whenever she wanted. They had been married a year and she was still getting used to it. As she looked at him, she noticed his clothing. Dark pants and a blue button down shirt, a big difference from the boxers he usually wore to bed. He was still in his work clothes.

"When did you get home?"

"I came home for lunch."

"But you didn't get to eat it, did you?…Or dinner…"

He smiled and ran a finger down the side of her face. His eyes suddenly became serious. "You scared the hell out of me yesterday, Sydney."

"I…I'm…"

"Don't." He interrupted her.

That's always how it went. _Don't say you're sorry, Sydney. Don't…It's not your fault; it's his. It's that bastard's_. That's how Michael always referred to him. They never said his name. Never. In the Vaughn house, that was the worst word that anyone could possibly utter. It wasn't allowed. It was forbidden, because everything, every trouble, every moment of pain, all of it was his fault. His, that bastard. _Don't say you're sorry, Syd. Don't ever say you're sorry…_

"Well, that was yesterday," she said with a smile. "Now it's today, and today I'm feeling much better."

"I'm glad. And I'm sure you'll feel even better after you go to the doctor."

"Michael…" She didn't want to go the doctor. She hated it. They always asked her the same questions and she fed them the same lies in return. They treated her like she was three years old.

"No, Syd. We discussed this yesterday…sort of…"

She couldn't remember much of that discussion, or much of anything from yesterday, but she could imagine that anything they would have "discussed" would have been pretty one sided. That wasn't fair. Yesterday she would have given in to anything…

"That was the worst I've ever seen you," he continued.

"Michael, I've had headaches before."

"Not like that, you haven't…You could barely talk; you were sick, you were burning up…You fell asleep, Syd, and when I moved, you woke up and grabbed at me, begged me not to leave. You called me Vaughn…"

"I call you Vaughn sometimes."

When he would do something to frustrate her, or she was angry or scared, she would revert to her old ways. She wouldn't think and would call him by his last name as she had been so used to doing before.

"This was different, Syd. It was like we were back there, in the hospital after…after it happened. I don't want to end up like that again…I'm not taking any chances. You're going."

Sydney sighed. He wasn't going to give in; this seemed to mean so much to him.

"Fine. When's my appointment?"

"Quarter to eleven. Do you want me to go with you?"

Part of her did want him to come. It would be nice to have him for company, but…

"No. You should stay here and get ready for the party."

He swallowed and his eyes grew wide, only just noticeably. He was trying to hide it, but he looked almost scared. "What's there to get ready?" he asked slowly.

Sydney grinned. God forbid she actually ask her husband to clean the house. Michael would do it if she asked him to. Nothing would end up where it was supposed to be, but he would do it…

"Nothing really, but you should still stay here in case people come early or my appointment runs late." She glanced at the clock and sighed. She didn't want to get out of bed. "I've got to get ready, and you have to be hungry. I'll make you breakfast before I go. We have eggs and pancakes, I think; what do you want?"

"I don't want eggs or pancakes."

Sydney raised an eyebrow. Michael Vaughn not wanting eggs or pancakes? Will wonders ever cease? 

"Aren't you hungry?"

Of course he was; he had to be. The poor man hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before.

"Yes, but not for breakfast."

Really? This was getting interesting…

"Do you want lunch to make up for what you missed yesterday? I'll make you a sandwich…"

Before she could finish, he pulled her closer, rolling quickly so that she was underneath him. His emerald eyes were clouded with desire.

"Michael?" she asked playfully, pretending not to notice the intensity in his gaze. "What do you want?"

"You. I want you."

She laughed. "We don't have…Mmmm…"

His lips had found hers. He tasted like sugar and honey; it was a lost cause.

"Sure we do."

Her hands were running up and down his back, pulling him closer. She had more than given in.

"But I'll be late…"

"Shut up," he murmured, cutting her off.

And she did. His lips on hers helped, of course.

She was late. She had known that she would be, but she didn't care. Being with Michael was definitely better than sitting in the stuffy waiting room. It was better than anything else in the world.

It was 10:59 when she finally arrived in the doctor's office. As she was signing in, the secretary pointed to a sign in front of her, which read, "If you are more than 15 minutes late for your appointment, we will have to reschedule you for another day."

"But I'm only fourteen minutes late," Sydney said in as innocent a voice as she could find.

The secretary sighed impatiently. "Have a seat, Mrs. Vaughn."

Sydney sat on the couch and busied herself with a well-worn copy of The Readers' Digest. She had looked at all the pictures and actually read three of the articles by the time the nurse called her name. It was quarter to twelve.

The nurse took her blood and asked her a few questions before leaving.

"The doctor will be with you shortly," she said before closing the door.

"Shortly" turned out to mean fifteen minutes; well, seventeen and a half if you wanted to be exact, but who was counting? By that time, Sydney had done a mental checklist of all the things she and Michael needed for their picnic, and had memorized the pattern in the wallpaper.

The doctor asked her a string of questions. "Exactly what happened yesterday?…How many times has this happened in the past year?…How long ago was your accident?…Can you describe…?…When was the date of…?…What did you…?…How was…?…"

And Sydney gave him her answers, some in truth, some lies: "When I was at school…eight maybe…one year and four months…Michael and I were vacationing…December…coffee…excruciating…"

She had considered just telling him the truth, but didn't think that, "I was on a secret mission as a double agent for the CIA," would fly very well with the doctor, and she didn't have time for a psych evaluation.

The truth and lies mixed too well, anyway. Sydney herself could hardly tell which was which anymore. She wished that the story they had made up for the outside world was the truth. It would be so much easier that way, so much less painful. But it wasn't, and it didn't really matter. She didn't care anymore.

The doctor's questions seemed endless and prying. She couldn't understand what some of them could possibly have to do with her illness or injury, and wondered if this was information the doctor really needed to assess her or if it was just stuff he was curious about.

Finally, the doctor left her, promising to be back soon with her lab results. Sydney almost laughed in his face. "Soon" seemed to have a different meaning in medical terminology; it was if you were still alive when they came back.

Eleven minutes later, Sydney was getting very impatient. It was 12:59 and her picnic guests would be arriving any minute, were probably there already as a matter of fact, and were probably sending poor Michael into cardiac arrest.

She picked up her purse and walked to the door. It was pointless for her to wait any longer. The doctor was just going to come back and tell her that the headaches were something she was going to have to live with, and would find some fancy way to say that he didn't really know why they had suddenly started to occur so often or become so intense…

Her hand was on the door, when it suddenly swung open, almost hitting her in the face. It was the doctor. He had decided to come back after all.

"Sydney, we have figured out why your headaches are worsening." He said in a monotone, as he stepped in the room and closed the door behind him.

He flipped through her chart and offered her a forced smile. "Why don't you have a seat…"


	3. It Looks Like Rain

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 3: It Looks Like Rain

A/N: Thanks, everyone!…No problem, Steph, anytime….I know exactly what you're talking about, Zoni. I usually try not to cry when I watch TV or movies, but that episode of ER made it very difficult…Alicia, first I want to say, I can't believe you printed out all of "The Dream." I mean, I have it saved as one big file on my computer and it's like a hundred pages. Thanks for the great review, though. I don't mind you taking up the space at all. :) Yeah, you guys can babble all you want, it's kind of nice…Well, I better get to the story. Hugefan16, please don't kill me when you get to the end of the chapter…Thanks again, everyone! You guys are great!

After what seemed like almost too quick a drive, Sydney's house finally came into view. There were cars parked in her driveway, but most of them were in the street. Michael must have made that they left room for her to come up the driveway. She pulled in and slowly got out of the car.

Sydney leaned against the side of her car. The sounds of music, laughter, and talking reached her ears. The picnic was in full swing in her backyard. She had been waiting eagerly for it, but she didn't want to go back there just yet. She needed time to sort her thoughts.

She ran a hand through her hair. A nervous habit that she somehow couldn't break. She still couldn't believe it. She just couldn't. It was too much to fathom. When the doctor had told her, she had made him repeat it twice just to make sure she wasn't hearing things. Just to make sure he wasn't wrong…

Her thoughts were interrupted when the sound of tinkling children's laughter reached her ears. A small boy rounded the corner of the house, running as fast as his chubby little legs would carry him and giggling madly.

His eyes grew wide when he saw her, and his irresistible smile became even bigger. "Auntie Syddy's here!"

He ran straight towards her, plowing into her shins and wrapping his arms tightly around her. She bent down and picked him up.

"Hey there, little man. What're you up to?"

"Nothing," he answered innocently, giving her an elfish smile. He wrapped his arms around her neck and gave her a sticky kiss.

Sydney hugged him back and kissed him lightly on the top of the head.

"Really?" she asked, laughing. "And who's supposed to be watching you?"

"Cherry," the little boy answered, giving the name by which he affectionately referred to his older sister.

As if on cue, two little girls appeared in the front yard, barefoot and breathless.

"Seth!" the older girl yelled as she ran, her blond curls bouncing crazily around her face. "You were supposed to stay in the backyard!"

"Auntie Syddy's here, Cherry!" Seth yelled back happily, burying his face in Sydney's neck.

"Hi Aunt Syd!" the girl called when she spotted them, running up to Sydney and wrapping her arms around her legs as her little brother had done earlier.

"Hi Cherry Pie," Syd answered, smiling. "How's my favorite flower girl doing?"

"Good," Kerri replied, looking up at her brightly. "Me and Sara are watching Seth, but he keeps running away."

"I can see that," Sydney laughed, and then faced the other little girl. "Hi there, Sara."

"Hi Mrs. Vaughn," she answered shyly, digging her toes into the grass.

"Is your mom here?"

Sara nodded. Her mother was Sydney's closest friend at work. She taught history in a classroom down the hall from Sydney's.

Sydney shifted Seth so that she was holding him with one arm, and Kerri took her free hand.

"Come on, guys," she said, smiling at Seth and swinging Kerri's hand. "Let's go to the party."

Seth nodded vigorously. "I like it back there. They have M&M's."

"Do they?"

"Yup. Uncle Mikey gives me all the red ones."

"Yeah?" She asked, taking her hand from Kerri to tickle Seth's tummy.

"Uh huh," he answered, squirming and giggling. "I like M&M's."

"Me too."

Sydney offered her hand back to Kerri, and led her little troupe around the house.

"Uncle Mike said that you were at the doctor's," Kerri stated, tugging on her arm.

"Yeah, I was," Sydney answered, giving her niece's hand a squeeze.

"Did he give you a shot?" Kerri asked.

"Nope. No shots."

"Good," the little girl answered, sticking out her tongue and turning to face Sara. "I don't like shots," she explained.

"Me neither," Sara whispered, her eyes growing wide. "They hurt."

Sydney had been watching this exchange between the two friends, when she felt Seth's sticky fingers on her face. He turned her head so that she was facing him. "Auntie Syddy?"

"Yes, baby?"

She said it accidentally; it was what she used to call him when he was younger. But he wasn't so little anymore. Just last week he had called her on the phone (all by himself except that Mommy had dialed the numbers, he had said) and told her what a big boy he was. She waited for him to tell her that now, to tell her that he wasn't a baby anymore.

But he didn't. He watched her with solemn green eyes. Those gorgeous eyes that matched Michael's so well; they must run in the family.

"Did the doctor make your ouchies all better?"

Sydney stopped watching and gazed at the concern in that little face. She took a deep breath as she searched for an answer that would satisfy her little nephew. She couldn't find one. The truth was, she didn't know. Maybe he had, or maybe he had made them worse…

She looked toward the sky, as if searching there for her answer.

"It looks like rain," she said, finally All three children turned their faces skyward, and Sydney closed her eyes and sighed.

"Hey Syd!" someone called.

Sydney opened her eyes to find that the owner of the voice was none other then Francie. She and Vaughn's sister Jacqueline had come looking for the children.

"Hi," Sydney answered as she walked over and hugged Francie and her sister-in-law.

"I think I've found something that belongs to you, Jacky," she said as she handed over her nephew.

"Thanks," she laughed, as she took the little boy.

"No! I want Auntie Syddy!" Seth shrieked as he held out his arms to his aunt. A year ago, Kerri and Seth had hardly known Sydney (or Michael either, for that matter, he had been kept so busy with work), but now the story was quite different, and the children adored their aunt and uncle.

"Auntie Syd's tired, sweetie," Jacqueline explained. "She needs a break, and so does Mommy." She put the little boy on the ground. "Kerri, you and Sara take Seth and go play."

Without any further prodding, the children ran off to go join the others in a game of tag.

"How'd it go, Syd?" Francie asked.

"Oh, fine," Sydney answered automatically. "How's everything here? How's Mike holding up?"

"Everything's great," Francie replied.

"And Michael's holding up just fine," Jacqueline added. "He'll be glad to know that you're here, though. He was worried."

"Hey Franice, where's Eric?" Sydney asked, quickly changing the subject.

"He's with your dad and Mr. Anderson and some other guys discussing business."

Sydney nodded. Doug Anderson was an old "business" friend of Jack's; his grandson Sammy had been the ring bearer at Sydney's wedding. Unlike most of Sydney's other friends at the party, Francie knew exactly what kind of business they were discussing, and that seemed to be the only time she'd let go of Weiss' arm.

The three women arrived in the backyard. Francie immediately ran off when she noticed that Eric was done talking with the men, and after a few words, Jacqueline went to join her husband.

Sydney surveyed the scene. All of their close friends, family, and neighbors were there. There were so many people, a lot more than they could have ever fit in their apartment.

Finally, she spotted what she was looking for. Michael was across the yard with two giggling little girls hanging onto his arms. She quickly recognized them as Rachel and Abby, the four year old twins of their new next door neighbors.

That seemed to pose a slight problem, however. Not the fact that Michael was playing with the twins, but that he was across the yard.

The mission: to make it across the yard in as little time as possible. It wasn't going to be easy.

First, she was sidetracked by Mrs. Vaughn. She couldn't very well pass by her mother-in-law without saying hello.

"Hi Mom," Sydney said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"My Sydney!" Mrs. Vaughn exclaimed, wrapping her in a huge hug.

Sydney spent the next five minutes talking with her mother-in-law, and listening to her compliments on both her son's new house and wonderful choice in women.

Sydney finally managed to politely turn away from Mrs. Vaughn, only to be surrounded by a group of children.

"Sydney, play tag with us!" Sammy yelled, smiling up at her.

"Please!" A group of six or seven rosy-cheeked children chorused.

"I don't know…" Normally she would have, no questions asked; but there was something else on her mind.

"See," Sammy said, putting his hands on his hips and turning to face the other children. "I told you she might need some convincing." 

A precocious child, he was clearly the leader of the bunch, even though there were others that were older than him. When he nodded, the children brought their hands from behind their backs. (She hadn't even noticed that they had been there. So much for all the spy training…") They happily revealed the flowers that they had so carefully collected for her; most of them weeds, some of the crushed, all of them perfect.

She couldn't refuse that, and spent the next ten minutes playing tag. She was laughing and smiling, but she wasn't having fun; her heart wasn't in it.

She managed to end the game when she was more then half way across the yard, which took some very strategic planning on her part. She was side by side with the group of men that had been discussing business earlier. She kissed her father, hugged Devlin, Dixon, and Mr. Anderson; and turned around to move on, only to come crashing into Will.

He had been talking with Marshall, and she spoke with the two of them, all the time glancing up at Michael. Inwardly, she was becoming frantic to get to him. She wanted to be close to him, to talk to him, to be held in his arms. She needed him. On the outside, though, she was enthusiastically playing the part of a good hostess.

Sydney left Will and Marshall and greeted everyone else at the party. Her friends from work, her neighbors, everyone. She figured that she might as well say hi to them all; she was almost half way done anyway. It seemed to take forever.

Finally, she had talked with everyone and was free to go to Michael. He was standing by a little table, busying himself with a bowl of M&M's. He felt her eyes on him, and looked up, relieved that she was finally approaching him.

She quickly walked over to him, and without a word, wrapped her arms around him, hugging him fiercely. He returned her embrace with equal fervor, rubbing her back and rocking her gently.

"Hey," he said, brushing her hair behind her ear after she finally pulled away from him. "How'd your appointment go?"

She wanted to tell him, she really did, but instead she gave him the same response she had given everyone else. "Fine."

It was an automatic answer; it wasn't the complete truth. "Fine" was never what it seemed, it meant anything but fine.

He knew. She could tell that he knew something was bothering her, just like he knew everything else about her.

"And…?" She knew he didn't want to push her, but he was also worried; he wanted to know, and she really should tell him…

She glanced around the yard and quickly changed the subject. "You did a great job setting up for the party."

"Thanks," he murmured, giving her a strange look before focusing his attention on the bowl of M&M's on the little table. He carefully picked some out of the bowl, and put his arm around her. She lay her head on his shoulder and held out her hand for some of the candy. He poured a rainbow of colors into it; green, orange, blue, brown, and yellow; but no red. There was never any red.

She had asked him once, why he never ate the red ones. He had just smiled at her and mumbled something about not liking the way they taste.

She hadn't asked him again.

They stood in silence for a few moments, crunching through the colorfully coated candy into the sweet chocolate beneath. The sun disappeared, swallowed up by a dark cloud.

Sydney sighed, lifting her head off his shoulder and turning to face him, standing not more than a few inches away.

"Mike?" A murmur; a mere whisper that almost rode away, unheard, on the wind.

"Yeah?"

"There's something I have to tell you."

His eyes clouded over with concern and the familiar wrinkles returned to his forehead. She wished that he had gone to the doctor's office with her, that she had let him come. It would have been so much easier if he had just heard it from the doctor. It would save her from having to tell him. 

"I was going to wait till later, but…"

There were the tears, gliding slowly down her cheeks. Why was she crying? But she knew why a moment later. It was because of the question burning inside of her, seeming to eat her alive. How was he going to react?

"Shh, Syd," he whispered, as he gently wiped them away. "You can tell me anything."

"Michael…" Her voice dropped to barely a whisper, as she leaned closer to him and told him what the doctor had said.

She slowly backed away and gave him a weak smile. It wasn't that bad now that she had told him, but…

All the sounds of their party disappeared. Silence. Total, complete silence. A void that could only be filled by the sound of his voice. She waited.

He stared back at her, the shock clearly evident in his emerald eyes. 

It started to rain; big, fat drops falling lazily from the sky. Spoiling their picnic, but perfect for the moment, mixing with the tears that splashed onto her cheeks.

"Michael, say something…please…"

::hides under desk to avoid flying objects:: Please, don't hurt me, guys! I was going to put more in this chapter, but it was getting way too long…The next chapter's written, though, and I just have to look it over before I post it. Review and let me know what you think. I can guarantee it'll make check and post the next chapter quicker…


	4. Making Everything Right

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 4: Making Everything Right

A/N: *crawls out from under computer desk* You guys are amazing! I couldn't believe all the great reviews I got. Thank you SO much, it really made my day…Yes, I do love cliffhangers, but I think it makes the story more interesting, don't you? The cliffhangers were what sucked me into Alias in the first place…Well, since the objects have stopped flying (at least the sharp ones anyway), and I have already managed to drag pretty much the same cliffhanger through two chapters, I'll stop rambling…Here's chapter four. Enjoy!

Suddenly, the sky opened up and the rain poured down in sheets. It's deafening clatter brought an end to the silence, and other sounds found their way to her ears.

Children squealing and running from their parents. Footsteps, shouting, dishes crashing as people hurriedly moved them out of the rain.

She heard someone call out to her, telling her that she should get inside. She heard, but she didn't listen. She didn't know who it was, didn't care either.

A hand grabbed her arm, trying to tug her in the direction of the house. She shrugged it off, not even looking to see who it was. Her eyes never moved from his, not once.

A moment later, when everyone had gone inside, and the only noise she heard was the pounding of the rain, she turned from him, she tore her gaze away.

She ran, her feet pounding noisily on the ground, splashing in the puddles that were already forming. She felt him reach out for her, felt his fingers brush her elbow as she turned away, but it only made her move faster, run harder. She had never thought that she would be running from him. Never. Him, of all people.

She didn't know where she was going, but she knew why she ran. It was the emptiness where his voice should have been. It was the silence broken only by the rain. The void left empty because he hadn't smiled. Hadn't touched her, hadn't kissed her, hadn't hugged her. He hadn't told her he loved her. He hadn't told her that it was going to be all right.

That was why she hadn't wanted to tell him, had been afraid of what his reaction might be. She hadn't wanted to be disappointed.

And it looked like she had been right in worrying, had been right in being afraid. Because she had been disappointed. He hadn't made it better, as she'd hoped he would. Her nagging fears seemed to have won; he had made it worse.

She was sobbing now, crying harder than she ever had before. Harder even, than that day when he had told her what that bastard had done to her. He had been there to comfort her then; he wasn't here now…

But as the tears ran down her face, so did the rain. At least the rain showed sympathy, washing away her tears so that no one, not even him, had to know that she had cried.

She didn't turn around, but knew that he was behind her, running, trying to catch her. She could feel him there, sense his presence; she didn't need to see.

Sydney didn't even make it halfway across the yard, when he caught her, grabbing her elbow and pulling her backward, causing her to turn around and come crashing into him.

She didn't try to move away. The truth was, she didn't want to. She had wanted him to hold her before, and deep down inside, she still wanted him to now.

So, she gave in to him. She wouldn't run anymore; hadn't wanted to in the first place, she realized. She covered her face with her hands and leaned into his chest, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

He gently took hold of her shoulders, pushing her away from him to gaze into her eyes.

She looked up at him, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. The rain was still pouring down, blinding her, but only to everything else, not to him. Maybe he wasn't upset after all. Maybe everything would be okay…

She was still waiting for his answer, waiting to hear his voice.

He placed a hand on the back of her head, tangling it hopelessly in her dripping hair; the other was on her cheek, caressing it softly.

He leaned down to her, and captured her lips with his. It was tender and sweet, filled with sugar and love. He kissed her slowly, letting her know without words that everything was going to be all right, that he loved her, that there was no need for tears.

The rain started to let up. It had been a freak shower; maybe their picnic wouldn't be spoiled after all. The two of them seemed to control the rain, willing it to come and go with their moods. It started to taper away as soon as Sydney's tears stopped falling.

Sydney sighed happily into him. Everything was perfect now. This was the reaction she had wanted, the one she had been afraid she wasn't going to get.

The rain became softer, a mere whisper of the angry pounding it had been only minutes ago. Michael's lips became hot and urgent, and she knew that if she looked into his eyes at that moment, she would see fire burning in their depths.

He took the kiss deeper, pulling her down with him into the depths of his passion. Her head was spinning and her knees grew weak. She was helpless whenever he kissed her like that, and knew it.

She tried to raise a weak protest, tearing her lips from his. "Michael…they're watching…"

She could see them in the windows, knew that the children would be tittering with laughter and the adults whispering and smiling knowingly.

"I don't care," he responded, pulling her closer to him. "I love you."

She lost it then. She had wanted to know that everything was going to work out for the better, but this was what she had really been looking for. Everything was truly right, now.

The rain had softened to nothing more than a sprinkle, showering sweetly down on them like sugar from heaven.

He dove into her, plowing his lips against hers. He wanted to taste her from every possible angle. He was taking her breath away and she gave it to him willingly; oblivious to everything but him, forgetting, even, the party guests watching curiously from the window.

The sun came out, fighting its way through the last drops of rain. The door opened, but quickly shut again. One of the children had tried to get outside, but had been stopped by Jacqueline, who was fiercely standing guard over the door.

Sydney pulled away from him slowly, holding a hand up to stop him when he tried to claim her lips once again.

"Michael…" she whispered, glancing toward the house.

He understood and smiled, kissing her on the forehead before taking her hand and leading her into a quiet corner of the backyard. As soon as they moved, Jacqueline stood away from the door, and the party guests came pouring outside again, bringing the food and music out with them.

"Sydney, how could you…why did you…?" He was still at a loss for words.

"I thought you'd be upset," she answered, biting her lip and looking toward the ground.

"How could you ever think that?"

She shrugged. "At first, I thought you were…angry."

"I'm so sorry, Syd, but you have to understand. I thought that you were going to give me the worst news of my life. I thought…"

He paused and looked down. Sydney followed his gaze. Despite the harsh watch that Jacqueline and a few other adults seemed to be issuing on their corner of the yard, Seth had somehow found his way between them and was tapping Michael's knee.

"Uncle Mikey, you better make Auntie Syddy go inside. She's all wet."

Michael laughed. "What about me, little man? I'm all wet, too."

Seth looked up at him gravely. "Cherry said Auntie Syddy went to the doctor's. If she stays all wet, she'll get the snifflies and…"

Michael tried to interrupt him, and tell him that wouldn't let that happen, that he would take good care of "Auntie Syddy," and that everything would be all right; but Seth was adamant.

"I don't want them to give you a shot, Auntie Syddy," he said sorrowfully, wrapping his arms around her legs. "Cherry and Sara said they hurt."

"It's okay, baby," Sydney said, tousling his hair.

"I'm not a baby," he replied, looking up at her. "I'm a big boy."

She smiled. He's not a baby. Now everything's back to the way it should be…

"I know, my little man. Now, if you don't let go of me, you're going to get all wet, too," she said, tickling him.

He let go of her and ran away laughing. They watched him make his way to the other children. Michael turned to her and smiled.

He took her hand and led her across the yard, to the stereo. He turned the music down, quickly grabbing the attention of those closest to them. He cleared his throat and put his arm around Sydney.

"Everyone, I have an announcement to make."

All conversation stopped; for once even the children were quiet. Sydney snuggled closer to Michael; all eyes were on them, now.

"Sydney and I…Well, we're going to have a baby."

This time, when those words were said, there was no silence. Instead, the air around them exploded with applause and cheers, as their family and friends offered their congratulations and wishes for good luck.

Sydney smiled up at Michael and he leaned down to kiss her soundly. Their party guests were closing in on them, wanting to shower them with kisses and hugs, but Michael wouldn't let them get too close.

He led Sydney out of the crowd and toward the house, insisting that they needed to get into some dry clothes, promising that they would be back out in not more than ten minutes.

She had barely closed the door behind them, when Michael claimed her lips once again.

And everything was right in the world. At least it was for awhile…

Okay, no big cliffhanger this time. *sigh* That would have been a little too evil…I know there were a few of you who guessed what was wrong with Syd. Congratulations! Did anyone else get it?…You guys were so great with the reviews last chapter; please keep it up. I haven't written the next chapter yet, and could really use some inspiration…


	5. Three Months

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 5: Three Months

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews everyone. I love them, really…Welcome, crasygrl! You sure did a lot of reading…Don't worry, hugefan16, I dodged it, no bruise…Sorry, I would have had this up sooner, but when I got home from work the other day, the power was out, so I couldn't write it for awhile. It's not really worth the wait or anything, and I'm sorry about that, too. Well, here it is…

They had three months of paradise before something happened. Three months, that's all they were allowed. Three months; thirteen weeks; ninety-two days; 2,208 hours; 132,480 minutes. That's it.

By that time, Sydney was in all her beauty, beginning to show, but just barely. She seemed to be one of those women who simply became more radiant during pregnancy, but Vaughn wasn't sure if that was his own biased opinion, or what others around them saw as well. It didn't matter to him; she was and would always be the most beautiful woman he ever saw.

Three months and nothing happened. It looked as if they were finally leaving the nightmare of yesterday behind. They had been so happy, they had almost forgotten. It seemed as if they were finally allowed some joy, were finally being given a break for everything that had occurred before. They almost forgot the pain and sorrow.

Almost.

But that's when it happened, when it all came crashing back, riding on a dangerously whirling wind, complete with thunder and lightning. Those three months had just been the calm before the storm.

It was a Saturday morning. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. It was a perfect day; one made just for them. 

But what woke Vaughn that morning, was not the whistling of the birds, or even the sun shining in his eyes; but a sudden crash. A magnificent clatter that made his heart leap to his throat and his eyes snap open; his head immediately turning to where Sydney should have been beside him.

But she wasn't there, of course. That would have been too easy. He sprang out of bed and ran to the source of the noise, practically skidding across the kitchen floor.

Sydney was there; thank God she was there. And he had her in his arms almost before the pan, the source of the deafening crash, had clattered to a stop on the kitchen floor. The entire kitchen was now decorated in a new edible motif: scrambled eggs.

Despite how worried he had been, the first words Vaughn spoke that morning were not, "Is everything all right?" "I'm so glad you're okay," or even, "Good morning."

Instead, he held Sydney tightly in his arms, glanced lazily around the kitchen, and muttered, "Sydney, what the hell…?"

It was early, too early to be out of bed on a Saturday morning, and she laughed at him for being so jumpy.

"Michael, go back to bed," she said, pulling free from his grasp.

He wouldn't, though.

"If I do, Syd," he said with a yawn, "you'll just throw another pan on the floor to wake me up again. What's the point?" He smiled when he said it, but she could see that he was worried; he didn't want to leave her alone even if he would just be in the other room.

She swatted him with a spatula and knelt down to clean up the eggs. "Fine, then you can help me clean up this mess."

Vaughn looked down at his smiling wife, tilted her chin up so that he could look into hr eyes, and uttered six little words that caused her eyes to light up and her irresistible smile to grow even larger. "Let's go shopping for the baby."

And so the eggs were forgotten (much to Donovan's delight), as they got ready and left, in a shower of sunshine and happiness. Surprisingly, they found a store that was open so early in the morning, and spent the next few hours blissfully shopping for their new little bundle of joy.

They arrived back home early in the afternoon and carried their bags inside. A few weeks ago, they had painted the guestroom, changing it from the dark, imposing green that had come with the house, to a light and airy blue that transformed their new nursery into a bright and cheery place. They brought their purchases in there and began the joyful task of putting everything away.

Vaughn was cutting the tags off the clothing and Sydney was folding them and placing them carefully in the dresser. She held up the third little Kings shirt that he handed her.

"Michael, what are we going to do if this baby is a girl?"

"What?" he asked, innocently. "My little girl can't be a hockey fan?"

Sydney laughed and threw a teddy bear at him.

"Besides," he shrugged, "you watch hockey games with me all the time."

"No, Mike, I don't watch hockey with you," she began, dramatically. "I sit in the room, completely forgotten, and stare at the screen until a commercial comes on and you finally find a minute to tear your eyes away…"

"Oh, come on." He rolled his eyes and threw the teddy bear back at her. She hadn't been looking at him when he threw it, but of course still managed to catch it and place it carefully back on the dresser. "It's not like that."

"Okay," she agreed, laughing and coming down to kneel on the floor in front of him. "It's not. We "watch" hockey together, but somehow never concentrate very much on the game."

"And that," he said, leaning forward and kissing her lightly, "is the best part of hockey."

"You're an embarrassment to the game, you know," she murmured, her face just inches from his, "letting your wife distract you like that…"

"Alright," he countered, leaning back and pointing to the door. "You go into the living room and turn on the TV. I'll come in, in five minutes and throw myself on top of you, and we'll see how long you can concentrate on the TV…"

"I do not _throw_ myself on top of you," she laughed, putting her hands on her hips.

"Okay, you don't. You just sit right on top of me in some of the most suggestive positions imaginable…"

"Fine," she interrupted, smacking him playfully. "You win." She leaned forward to kiss him again, but he shook his head and looked away.

"No," he said, pushing her away and pretending to be angry. "You don't believe me. Go into the other room. I bet you won't last ten seconds when I come in."

Sydney smiled at him and left the room. A few seconds later, Vaughn heard the TV turn on. He waited for a couple minutes before getting up and tiptoeing toward the living room.

He had almost entered the room, when the phone rang. He waited in the hallway and heard Sydney answer it.

"Hello?…Oh, hi. How are you?…Fine…Yeah…Sure, hold on."

Sydney suddenly came into view, holding out the phone to him. "Mike, it's for you."

"Oh, right," he said, smiling. "You're just trying to distract me…"

"It's Eric."

"Oh…thanks." He took the phone from her and slowly brought it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Mike, it's me."

"Eric. What's up?"

Please, please, please don't tell me that I have to come in today…

"Well, I know you're not supposed to be on today…"

"No, Eric. Absolutely not…"

"…but Devlin told me to relay to you his "request" for your presence at this emergency meeting we're holding in an hour…"

"But…"

But this was his day off. This was the time he got to spend with his wife, and they were just about to…

"Listen, Mike, he did use the word request, but I don't think it's one of those ones that you have the choice of saying no to. At least, not if you still want to have a job to be able to feed your wife and baby with."

Vaughn sighed. "Fine. I'll be there as soon as I can."

He hung up the phone and down at Sydney, guilt showing clearly in his eyes. "Syd, I…I…"

"I know," she said, cutting him off. "Go get ready. I'll be waiting on the couch for you when you come back."

He smiled and gave her two kisses, one for her and one for the baby, as had become his habit whenever he had to say goodbye to her. "I can't wait."

Vaughn arrived at the office exactly fifteen minutes before the meeting was scheduled to begin, and Weiss briefed him on the situation. Just as he was getting his things together to head up to the meeting, he got a dreadful sinking feeling. Why did he suddenly have the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong?

A chill ran down his spine as he vividly remembered the frying pan clattering through the kitchen that morning. He had woken with a start and had a feeling of such dread. He had been so sure that something awful had happened.

But he had been there then, to take care of it, to take care of her. And all that had happened was that some eggs had gone flying across the kitchen. Now, though, when something really could go wrong…

Only God knew how long this meeting would last, how long he was going to be holed up in this damn office. It could be dark by the time he finally got out, and for some reason, today he didn't want to leave Sydney alone in the dark. It was stupid he knew, Sydney was a grown woman and more than qualified to take care of herself, but…

He picked up the phone and considered calling her, but that would hardly quell the fear growing inside him. It would satisfy it for the moment, he knew, but as soon as he hung up the phone, the nagging fear would start to gnaw away at him again. He could ask her to invite someone over, but either she wouldn't do it, or would agree to it only to pacify him, not having any intention of following through with his request. So, he didn't call her; he called someone else.

After Michael left, Sydney sat down on the couch and flipped through the channels on the TV. A cooking show, cartoons, a Spanish soap opera, and a hockey game. But if Michael wasn't there to "watch" it with her, what was the point?

Sighing, she turned off the TV and stretched, her shirt pulling up over her little belly. She brought a hand to the smooth skin there. She still couldn't believe it. There was a little life growing inside there. One that she and Michael had created. A little person that was going to call her mommy and look up to her, ask her questions and color her pictures. In a matter of months, she was going to be a mother. She was going to have a baby.

She smiled and went back into the nursery. She put the rest of the clothes away and stood back in satisfaction, admiring the room.

Suddenly, she felt a strange, tingling feeling in the back of her head. The same feeling she used to get over a year ago, right before she would quickly dodge a bullet that would go whizzing past her ear, or turn just in time to deflect a near fatal blow.

She instinctively brought a hand to her stomach, as if to protect the child that was there. A feeling of terror filling her as she realized that no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much training she had had, she would never be able to protect her baby from everything.

A part of her had realized this before. The thought had been lurking in the back of her mind as soon as the doctor had told her that she was pregnant. Most people thought they knew of all the evil in the world, but they didn't; they didn't know half of it. But she knew; she knew of it all, and soon she would have a little baby that she and Michael would have to try to shelter from that evil. How the hell would they be able to do that?…

Not wanting to turn around, but knowing that she had to, Sydney finally gave in and slowly spun around the look out the window; half surprised, half expecting to see the pair of dark eyes she found staring back at her.

"Hello?"

He only then noticed that his fingers were drumming nervously on the desk. Why the hell was he so worried?

"Jacky, it's Mike. Are you busy?"

"No…"

Thank God, thank God, thank God…

"…Seth and I were just on our way home from the grocery store."

"Can you do me a favor."

"Sure. What do you want?"

"Do you think you could go stay with Syd for a few hours. I'm stuck in a meeting at work, and I don't want to leave her alone."

"Yeah. No problem…." He heard a small voice in the background, but couldn't make out the words. "…No, Seth. Uncle Mikey's busy…Sorry, Mike. But, yeah, we're near your house right now; we'll be there in a minute."

"Thanks."

"Sure. Bye."

"Bye."

He sighed. Times like this made him glad that as a child, he hadn't been able to convince his mother to give his sister up for adoption…

He tried to call his house, but Sydney didn't pick up the phone. He left a quick message on the answering machine, begging her to call him back; the sinking feeling in his stomach becoming larger with every passing second.

He decided to wait in his office for a few minutes. He was going to be late, but he didn't care. Once he was in the meeting, they wouldn't be able to reach him unless it was an absolute emergency, and he wanted to wait a few minutes to see if everything was all right, to see if Sydney would get his message and call him back…

Suddenly, his phone rang, causing him to jump from his chair.

"Syd?!" he asked quickly.

"No, Mike, it's me," the familiar voice of his sister answered.

"Oh, Jacky. How's Syd?"

Please say you found her, you're sitting with her right now drinking lemonade and catching up on the latest gossip. Please, please, please…

"Actually that's why I'm calling. She's not answering the door."

Shit. Don't panic, Michael. Don't panic…

"Jacky, is her car there?"

Maybe she had gone out to get something to eat. Maybe she had thought of something else they needed for the baby…

"Um, yeah, it is…No no, Seth…Michael, could she have gone for a walk?"

She could have. He would often come home from work to find a note on the kitchen table saying that she went out for a breath of fresh air and would be back soon…

"Yeah, then she would have taken…" But just as he was starting to comfort himself with the fact, he heard Donovan barking in the background, scratching against the door. "…Never mind." Well, that meant sleeping was out, too; nobody could sleep with that damn dog barking.

Jacqueline was speaking again, but he wasn't paying attention. "What?"

"I asked if you had a key hidden somewhere, so we could..."

A key, hidden away under the doormat or in the mailbox, like any normal family would have. The problem was, they hadn't been a normal family; hadn't led normal lives. A key hidden under the doormat seemed more a threat than something that might be helpful. If he or Sydney had been locked out of the house, it honestly wouldn't take them more than a few minutes to find some way in. It would probably take Syd more time to find the key than…

"Mike?"

"What?…Um, no. We don't."

"Okay, Mike…Seth, stop…I've knocked on all the doors and looked in all the windows…She's not here…"

He had known it the minute his sister had called, but it hadn't let himself believe it.

__

She's not here.

Those three words repeated over and over in his head. The voice taunting him, starting out slowly, but quickly speeding up to the pitch of some psychotic cartoon character…

__

She's not here. She's not here; she's not here; she's not here, she's not here, she's nothereshesnothereshesnotherenotherenotherenothere…

Laughter, cruel and high and taunting, ringing in his ears. _She's not here, that's all folks. _Damn cartoons…

"Mike?…Mike?…"

And three months of paradise slowly began to crumble away.

Thanks for reading, and please review. I don't get home from work till 6 today :( and some nice reviews will really make my day…There were a few questions about Syd's reaction to her pregnancy, and I dealt a little bit with that here, but there'll be more next chapter, I promise…Hopefully it's getting at least a little more interesting now. With any luck, the next chapter should be up soon…


	6. What Started It All

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 6: What Started It All

Thanks for all the reviews and emails! We're almost to 100 already, can you believe it?…That was awfully sweet of you, manda bear, giving me that little bell to ring…You don't have to apologize for the long reviews, Emma and Michelle, I loved them. But the sharp stuff and the monitor? That's another matter :^D…I'm really glad you guys like this, I was afraid that you would all be so tired of reading "The Dream" that you wouldn't go anywhere near this story…Okay, for the chapter: expect the unexpected, and here we go…

He hung up the phone without even saying goodbye, and ran from his office. Weiss tried to grab him and pull him back, telling him that he had to go to this meeting, but Vaughn had damned the meeting to hell the moment those three words were spoken.

__

She's not here…

Screw the meeting. Screw his job even. Sydney and that baby had become everything that he lived and breathed for. Sydney's smiling face was what got him out of bed in the morning and the last thing he thought of at night. And the baby…just the thought of it, of what he and Sydney had created, catapulted him onto cloud nine.

Without those two, his wife and his child, he would have nothing to work for, nothing to live for even. He would be dead.

Vaughn got into his car and sped out onto the street. He made his way home in a flurry of blaring horns, yelled obscenities, and crude gestures; breaking more traffic violations than he dared to count, and thanking whatever God was still with him that there weren't any cops on the street.

He pulled into his driveway with screeching tires, the smell of burning rubber filling the air. Jacqueline was sitting on his front porch, talking calmly to Seth.

The little boy jumped up happily when he spotted his beloved uncle, running to him with open arms. "Uncle Mikey, Uncle Mikey, guess what?"

"Not now, Seth," Vaughn said, hurrying past him.

Seth stuck out his lower lip and toddled after Vaughn, tugging on the bottom of his shirt.

"But, Uncle Mikey…"

"Seth, no!" Vaughn turned and yelled at him, with more force and anger than he had meant to use. Seth's bottom lip quivered slightly, but he held his ground and didn't back away.

"Seth," Jacqueline said patiently, "Uncle Mikey needs you to leave him alone right now."

The little boy folded his arms across his chest and trudged unhappily to his mother. "Uncle Mikey's acting like Oscar the Grouch," he pouted.

"Listen, little man…" Jacqueline began, but Vaughn interrupted her.

"Seth, I'm sorry. I'm just worried about your Auntie Syddy and your baby cousin."

"Okay," Seth nodded, the glow of happiness returning quickly to his face, "Me too." He ran over to Vaughn and looked seriously up at him. "Why are we worried, Uncle Mikey?"

"Because we don't know where Syd is."

"Do we know where my baby cousin is?"

It was only the simple question of an innocent child, but Vaughn gritted his teeth, trying very hard not to lose his patience. "No, the baby's with Syd."

Seth nodded, his eyes becoming solemn as if he were immersed in deep thought.

"Jacky," Vaughn began, turning toward his sister. "Have you heard anything?"

"No," Jacqueline answered, shaking her head. "Nothing. We've been waiting here the whole time."

Vaughn shaded his eyes with his hands and peered into a window. The house was dark. Nothing looked amiss, at least nothing would to anyone else. Something was missing, though, the worst thing that could possibly be…

"Um, Mike?" Jacqueline asked softly, tapping his shoulder. "Why don't you open the front door. You have the key."

Without a word, Vaughn unlocked the door and they went inside.

"Syd?"

Please, Syd. Please…He was praying that this time, he wouldn't have to follow pools of blood to find her.

"Auntie Syddy? Where are you?"

"Sydney?"

They all knew that she wouldn't answer, all except for Seth that is. He looked in all the closets and underneath the couch cushions. "Maybe she's playing hide and go seek."

They searched the entire house, but as expected, their efforts proved fruitless. She was nowhere to be found. There was no note, no message, no trace of her at all.

In a last desperate attempt, Vaughn picked up the phone and dialed her cell. He held his breath as it rang: once, twice, three times and then four.

He had almost given up hope, almost hung up when the ringing suddenly stopped, and a small voice answered. "Hello?"

Maybe there was hope after all…

"Sydney?!" desperate, frightened, pleading, praying, wishing, begging…

He was answered by silence. Bitter, taunting silence. He hated silence.

He tried again, quieter this time, the hope left behind, "Syd?"

Nothing.

Seth suddenly toddled into the room. "Uncle Mikey," he said, holding something out to him. Vaughn didn't pay much attention and Seth tugged impatiently on his shirt. "There's a scary man that wants to talk to Auntie Syddy."

Clutched in his little hand was Sydney's cell phone. Dammit.

Vaughn hung the phone back on the wall, resisting the urge to slam it down, to scream and shout, to swear as he never had before. Not now. Not in front of the kid…

"Thank you," he said quietly, taking the phone from his nephew and fighting the impulse to throw it across the room, break it, smash it into a thousand pieces, grind it into dust.

Without another word, Vaughn went back outside, searching the front of the house for God knows what; a hint, a clue, piece of mind perhaps…even he didn't know.

He sat on the porch steps, his head in his hands. Jacky sat down next to him and put her arm around him. "Mike, it'll be okay…I'm sure it'll be okay."

She didn't know. She didn't have a God damn clue. As far as she was concerned, Sydney had been a banker who had just happened to have a lot of unfortunate and painful accidents. She didn't know that she had been beaten within an inch of her life, she didn't know that she had been raped. She didn't know anything.

Vaughn had tried to create a normal life for himself and Sydney, to make up for what had gone wrong before. Why was he having such bad luck? He always seemed to lose, at everything…He had taken a Chance card, hoping for Boardwalk: Go directly to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200…Sorry! Back to start! And that little red piece didn't give a damn if his blue piece had been right next to the base…Tornado tilts house. Pay $125,000. And his salary was only $30,000. Shit…He was stuck in the muck right before the candy castle, all he needed was a blue square and his damn little gingerbread man would be home free…But this; this wasn't a game. This was real, and if he lost this time, he would lose everything…

Seth continued to search the front yard, still convinced that Sydney was playing a game with him. Vaughn heard his little voice float through the air, "Auntie Syddy?…Baby cousin?…" He searched every crack in the driveway and behind the all tires on Vaughn's car. "Auntie Syddy?…Auntie Syddy!"

Vaughn almost didn't catch the change in his tone. Seth's tiny feet were pounding down the driveway before it caught up with him. In a matter of seconds, his nephew's little voice had gone from questioning to triumphant.

"Seth! Stay in the…"

But Seth didn't listen to his mother, and neither did Vaughn. Both the grown man and the little boy ran through the front yard and down the sidewalk, twin pairs of emerald eyes focused on the same object…  


"Syd! Oh, thank God!"

It was like an angel had fluttered down from heaven and was walking toward him. He had never seen a more beautiful sight in his entire life.

Sydney spotted them and broke into a run. Vaughn quickly overtook Seth and caught up with her, picking her up and twirling her around.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close. "Oh, Michael…" She was almost in tears. Almost, but she wouldn't let them fall.

He kissed her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, her forehead, everywhere that his lips could reach. It was as if he wanted to make sure she was all there. And she was. She was safe now. He had her in his arms and she hadn't been hurt, at least not physically. There was no blood, none at all. If he closed his eyes, he could see it, pooling on the ground, dripping down her face; but when he opened them, it wasn't there, and that's all that mattered.

Even if there was no blood, he knew that everything had not been right before. Something had caused her to run away, something had scared the hell out of her. And now that so much was at stake, that there was so much more to lose…

"Sydney, what the hell happened?" he whispered into her hair.

"I…I was in the nursery and there was someone outside the window, staring at me…"

Dammit. Please, say it wasn't him. Please…

"Do you know who it was?" he interrupted quietly, almost afraid to hear her answer.

"…I don't know. He ran when I turned around. But Michael, he looked so familiar. I swear, I've seen him somewhere before. I got this awful feeling…like something was going to go terribly wrong…His eyes, Michael. God, you should have seen his eyes…I've only seen one other person who looked at me like that…"

"Shhh, Syd. Everything's all right, now…"

It couldn't have been him. If it had been, he wouldn't have fled. He wouldn't have let her get away. But that didn't mean that it wasn't someone who worked for him, that didn't mean that it wasn't one of his henchmen, sent to…Now wasn't the time to think of things like that. Now wasn't the time to panic… 

"Where did you go?"

"I went to the neighbor's house," she looked away, her cheeks reddening, "pretending to return the eggs that I borrowed last week…"

"Why didn't you call me?"

Why, Syd? Why? She had scared the hell out of him, if she had only called…

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Mike. I didn't want to worry you and didn't think I'd get through to you anyway. It was stupid of me to be so scared…"

He could tell she was embarrassed. She had been, after all, Miss Kick-Ass Super Spy, and she had let a mere trespasser frighten her. Something told him, however, that their little lurker was not as innocent as he might have appeared. He had set off warning bells for both himself and Sydney, and he knew that his wife would not have run from any ordinary trespasser. There was something different about this one. She had told him that it had been in his eyes, you can always tell about someone by their eyes…

"It's okay, Syd. You don't have to apologize. I'm just so glad you're okay."

Jacqueline had caught up with Seth awhile ago, and had taken his hand in order to slow their arrival at where Sydney and Vaughn were standing. They had approached them by now and Jacky was attempting to hold the fidgeting toddler away from his aunt and uncle for a little while longer. He finally broke free from her grasp and ran over to them.

"Auntie Syddy, you didn't follow the rules," he declared, hands on his hips. "Mommy says that when you play hide and go seek you have to stay in the yard."

"I'm sorry, little man," Sydney answered, pasting that well-known smile on her face and ruffling her nephew's hair.

"I knew we'd find you, but Uncle Mikey sure was scared. He thought you hided in a spot where we'd never ever find you."

"Your Uncle Mikey can always find me," Sydney said, smiling at Vaughn. "He knows that."

Vaughn smiled back at her, wishing that what she said was true.

"Did you find my baby cousin, Auntie Syddy?" Seth asked, tugging on her arm.

Sydney nodded. "He's with me, remember?"

"Yup. Mommy said he's in your tummy," he answered, peering up curiously at Sydney. "Is he gonna be able to play with me soon?"

"In a few months, little man."

It hit him as soon as she said it. A few months and that was it, he'd be a father…

"That's a long time," Seth sighed mournfully.

"Not too long," Sydney answered, smiling down at him. "You have to be patient."

Seth seemed to think about this for a minute and then put a hand up to Sydney's stomach. "Does he have toys to play with in there?"

Sydney laughed and Jacqueline took Seth's hand. "I think it's time for us to go," she said to her son, and then turned to Sydney and gave her a hug. "I'm so glad you're safe."

"Thanks," Sydney answered, hugging her back.

"And thanks for coming over, Jacky," Vaughn said, giving his sister a peck on the cheek.

"Any time."

"Bye bye, Auntie Syddy and Uncle Mikey!"

"Bye, Seth," they answered in unison, watching the little boy as he skipped happily down the sidewalk.

Sydney and Vaughn waved to them as they left, waiting until their car was no more than a little speck on the road before finally walking back to the house. Vaughn put his arm around Sydney and turned his head to face her. The smile had left her face, and he could clearly see the fear haunting her eyes.

She felt his gaze and tilted her head towards his, giving him a small smile and trying to shake the fear from her eyes. He knew it was still there, lurking in the depths of her eyes…

  
Vaughn was awakened that night by a sudden movement, something jerking violently and slamming into him. His eyes snapped open and he found Sydney beside him, thrashing and whimpering in her sleep.

He put a gentle hand on her in an attempt to reassure her. But it didn't work. Her mumbles turned to whispered words, her movements becoming more fierce. "No…no…no…"

"Shhh, Syd…" He tried to quiet her, to wake her, but instead of her turning to him with open arms as he expected, her fist shot out at him, smacking him in the face, a painful reminder of her strength, even when she seemed so vulnerable.

Still asleep, but becoming more agitated by the second, Sydney sat straight up in bed, breathing heavily, whispers turning to shouts. "No! No, not again! Please not again…" she was sobbing uncontrollably now, tears streaming down her cheeks, shoulders shaking. "Please…please…please…" she was begging, pleading with him not to hurt her.

Vaughn wrapped his arms carefully around her, holding her tightly. She was struggling to get away from him, trying to break free, not from him, but from the man who was haunting her dreams.

"Sydney…Sydney, please…"

"…Don't hurt me!…Not again…not again…"

"Syd, it's me…"

"…No, not again!…The baby!…Please, not my baby…Please, no…"

"Sydney!" He was shouting now, in an attempt to be heard over her screams.

When he was beginning to become frightened, beginning to think that he would never be able to wake her, her eyes suddenly snapped open. The screams died down once she realized who really held her, but the tears persisted. She stopped struggling to get away from him, instead holding him so tightly that he almost couldn't breathe.

"Michael…Michael…" she hiccuped between sobs.

At least he was still Michael. Maybe all hadn't been lost to yesterday…

"Shhh, baby. It's all right."

…Maybe they could still pick up the pieces and put them back together…

"No, Michael. It's not all right…What if I can't do it? What if I can't protect the baby?"

"Syd, it's not just you. I'll always be there. We'll protect the baby together…"

With the events of the day, with the recurrence of her nightmares, all of her fears came crashing to the surface, every last one, going back as far as she could remember, as far as she dared. There were the fears that had been hiding in the back of her mind the moment she had been told she was pregnant, those that had been instilled in her after she had been hurt so badly, and even a few that she had held onto from before.

He listened to them all. _What if I turn out like my mother? What if he tries to hurt me again?_ _What if_… He tried to reassure her, to tell her that it would be all right, but some fears were harder to rid than others. Some ghosts would haunt her forever.

Finally the tears stopped falling and she lay back, sighing, more on his side of the bed, than hers, both of them sharing his pillow. He finally let himself hope that this would be the last of it, that he had been able to quell all of her fears and uncertainties.

But awhile later, long after he thought she was asleep, she took his hand and whispered through the darkness, "Michael…I know we said that we didn't care what the sex of the baby was, just as long as it was healthy, but…I hope…I hope it's not a girl…I don't want my little girl to be hurt like I was, Michael. I don't think I could take it."

He didn't tell her that it was a cruel world, and that her little boy could be hurt just as badly. That was the truth, but it was too painful to reveal just yet.

"Syd," he murmured, brushing a light kiss against her temple. "Whether the baby's a girl or a boy, we'll take care of it, protect it, and love it like there's no tomorrow. We'll do just fine."

He couldn't see her eyes in the darkness, didn't know if she believed him. He could only hope that he was right.

She lay her head down on his shoulder and he held her tightly until her breathing steadied, and he knew that she had finally fallen asleep. But it wasn't until the sun was beginning to come up, when he finally closed his eyes; and even in his sleep, he never let her go.

And that's where it all began, on that seemingly innocent, lazy Saturday that had seemed so perfect. But somehow, things are never as they seem, as Sydney and Vaughn had already learned, but were soon to be given yet another painful lesson. The seed of fear and uncertainty had been planted in them both, and had started to grow, slowly becoming a strangling vine that choked away whatever happiness they had been able to scrape up after the incident of that day. But if they had only known that in a few months, they would have traded anything to have that gnawing, haunting fear as the worst of their troubles. If they had only known that that Saturday was not the end, but the beginning. If they had only known that that would be what started it all…

Sorry, once again, for the lack of action. I know some of you are looking for it, but I couldn't completely shatter their paradise just yet. Don't worry, the action's coming soon, I promise. We just need a little angst and drama before the really bad stuff happens…Please let me know what you think. Reviews really do help me to work quicker…


	7. Every Time

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 7: Every Time

A/N: Hmmm, Seth's probably about 3 or so. Old enough to talk, but young enough to still be cute, I guess…manda bear, you read the whole thing before _and_ after the new chapter?! Wow. :)…And Andi, I know you already read this on the message boards, so I don't know if you'll get this note here, but yes, I have read your stories. They're amazing, and I'm seriously honored that you read mine. Thanks…Okay, I made some notes for what I wanted to put into this chapter, and then I sat down to write it and didn't really follow my notes at all…It's a little bit sad, and I think I've already scared the hell out of a few people…So, with that in mind…

A flash of lightning and rolling thunder. Like a freight train in the night. One coming to run her over, to run her down. She could see the bright lights, hear the whistle, the screaming of the engine. But she couldn't move.

She was there again. In her own personal hell, with her very own devil looming over her. Menacing and dark and freakish. Features somehow twisted, not at all like she remembered him. 

But then again, she had been trying to forget. She would know him if she saw him, but not because of his face. It had taken her almost a year to erase that face from memory and she had finally succeeded.

Almost.

Because she could still see the outline of his features. The crisp moonlight had slipped in the window beside the bed, giving everything an eerie glow. She wished that it wasn't a moonlit night. She wished that she couldn't see him.

But it didn't matter. Even when she closed her eyes, he was there. His haunting features dancing ghostlike before her eyes. She could still feel his greasy hands sliding over her skin, staining her, tainting her.

She tried to scream, but his lips were over hers before she had even opened her mouth. She felt the sudden hard chill of metal pressed against, scraping smoothly along her skin, startlingly familiar.

But he wasn't drawing blood. Not yet. That would come later.

She wasn't even chained down, but she still couldn't move. She was still on the tracks and the train was drawing frightfully closer. She could count down the seconds now…

Ten…

His rough hands moved down her face, slid down her neck. She thought she felt them tighten for a moment, making her gasp for air. She almost wished that he would do it and be done with it. She almost wished that the damn train would come faster, splattering her against the tracks.

But then two things struck her, one from without and one from within.

One was him, bringing his hands away from her neck and sliding them down her arms. He couldn't take her breath away, not until he was finished. And he wasn't finished, he was moving at a painstaking pace, almost making her think that time had stopped…

Nine…

But it hadn't. She knew because she could still count down the seconds. She knew because she could still feel the pressure from within. Her baby, hers and Michael's, was kicking against her, reminding her that if she died, the little life inside her would die too.

And then she was glad that he hadn't strangled her. Then she could endure this torture. But just barely…Just barely…Just barely…

Not for much longer. Soon it would all come crashing back. Soon it wouldn't matter if he killed her or not. Soon she would be as good as dead…

Eight…

He was still there. His tongue was still crawling across her skin.

And her tears were still burning their way down their cheeks. The cold metal pressed harder against her. Hot and cold, and fire and ice all mixed into one.

And then there was blood, sticky and shining, trickling down her skin.

But she was almost glad. Then she could focus on something other than him. She could keep her mind on the pain. Then she loved the pain. She wanted more…

Seven…

She was glad she couldn't remember. Glad she had been almost dead when this had happened before. She didn't think she would have been able to survive if she had felt him do this to her.

She couldn't remember the last time, but she knew that this was how it had been. Something told her. It was like she had really been awake when it happened, but the memory had been stolen from her.

And now she was remembering. She was remembering it all. All that she could never really remember, because she had never really known.

She was glad she had been unconscious, glad that memory had been stolen, and wished this one could be too…

Six…

Black. Swirling and dark and angry. Making everything fade in front of her. The moon was hidden behind a cloud. So maybe it did have feelings after all. It had decided to leave her in the dark.

But then there was a sudden flash. And she could see again. It was the lightning, teasing and mocking and laughing. Back to haunt her. Back to outline his face, back to make her see the blood. Back to show her what was real.…

Five…

The thunder followed, growling in anger. A deafening crash, a magnificent roar. But at least the thunder was helpful. It blocked the sound of him from her ears. Even if it was only a moment, it was worth it. Every second that she didn't have to hear him, see him, taste him, was worth it. Because she couldn't keep his touch off her, she couldn't keep his putrid stench from invading her nostrils…

Four…

Suddenly, he was off her. He was away from her. He was gone. And she thought that maybe there was an angel up there watching out for her, after all. Maybe someone had answered her prayers.

He disappeared from view and she let herself breathe. Tears of relief flooded her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. He had left her before completely violating her, but all was not right yet…

Three…

Because he was back again. Standing over her. The flash of metal gleaming before her eyes even without the help of the moonlight.

The moon had disappeared. It didn't want to watch. It was afraid.

She was afraid, too.

Two…

He raised the knife over his head and she closed her eyes. This she couldn't watch. This was the part where she always closed her eyes. She could hear herself screaming something, pleading with him. But couldn't make out the words.

He heard her though, and he laughed. Ugly and hellish. And she knew that if she died and ended up in hell, that is how the devil would laugh. A sound worse than fingernails on a chalkboard. She hated that laugh. She could forget his face, but she couldn't forget that laugh…

One…

Light flashed through the room, but it wasn't lightning this time. And as soon as the pain ripped through her body, she wished it was. Now she would have kissed the lightning that she had been cursing just moments before if is could have prevented this.

The pain seared through her, burning her white-hot, making her wish she had never been born, never knew what it meant to live…

She had run out of numbers to count down. She had run out of time….

The train crashed down on her. And that was it. That was the end.

Something was torn from her. Something that she couldn't take back, something that would never heal.

She screamed. A sound that was ripped from the depths of her soul, loud and piercing. 

He was holding it over her, and in the light it was gruesome and ugly and dripping with blood. But to her, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. And she loved it right away. 

She cried because he was holding it, because it would never breathe, never laugh, never talk.

Her tears were soaking her cheeks, and she didn't care that he was seeing her cry now. She didn't care about anything anymore. Anything at all.

She closed her eyes as everything started to go hazy. She was still shrieking, still sobbing, but it was weak now. She didn't have the energy anymore. It had dripped away with the blood that had flowed from her when he cut her open. With the blood that was dripping from what he held above her.

He laughed, and placed it, almost gently, into her arms. And she kissed it, the little baby that would never live. Her little baby.

And the tears flowed harder than she thought possible, mixing with the blood that was splashed hopelessly around the room.

He laughed.

Somehow she found the strength, and a bloodcurdling scream ripped itself from her lips.

And then, for the first time that night, the fourth time that week, the twenty-second time that month…she found herself in Michael's arms.

The blood was gone, but her baby wasn't. It was safe inside her where it belonged.

She was still sobbing. The tears wouldn't go away. Michael held her and rocked her gently, showering her with tender kisses, whispered reassurances, and love.

She didn't need to tell him anything. He knew. He knew every time. And every time, she woke up in his arms, safe and sound. Every time, he stayed up with her for hours, even when he had to work the next morning. Every time, he held her until she fell asleep. That's what she knew.

What she didn't know, was that every time, he held her until long after she had finally closed her eyes. And every time, he didn't close his own until the sun had almost peeked in through their bedroom curtains.

And that's how it happened.

Every time…

Okay, everybody take a deep breath…There that's better. Sorry if I scared you, and sorry if that chapter's not any good. I just sat down and started typing, and that's what came up on the screen. Surprised me too, honest…Oh, thanks for all the great reviews, guys. Please keep it up…


	8. Those Three Little Words

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 8: Those Three Little Words

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys…Thanks, Michelle, for not throwing anything. Good thing I put that line in there…Jen, you found The Dream, right?…Dreams are lots of fun, crasygrl. You can write whatever you want in them…And now, for the chapter. Nothing scary this time, I promise…

She moved and it woke him. It was gentle this time, stretching, turning, changing positions. Quite a switch from the last time she had awakened him. But that was because it was morning now; the sun was out, dancing on their bedroom floor.

When she's kicking and thrashing, whimpering and crying, screaming for mercy…that's when it's dark. When he fears the blackness will swallow him up, will take her away from him, will leave him with nothing to live for.

He loosened his hold on her, allowing her to turn and face him. She flashed him that sweet smile. The one filled with sugar and sunshine. The one that leaves him breathless. The one that almost makes him forget…

"Morning, Michael," she murmured, and her voice almost makes him forget, too.

"Hey," he replied softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

But when he looked into her eyes, he knew he couldn't forget. Beneath the glitter of happiness, haunting that sparkle of life, was the fear, the worry. 

He saw it, but didn't say a word. That fear and the dark circles that lie beneath her eyes are the last remnants of her nightmares. The only hints that she has had to endure months of terror and nearly sleepless nights.

He knew that his eyes must look the same, if not worse. She seemed to sense what he was thinking, and as her eyes glanced up to his own, he saw a flash of guilt and worry.

"Michael…" she whispered, bringing a gentle finger up to the skin around his eye. "I'm so sorry."

He moved his lips to tell her not to…_Don't say you're sorry, Syd. Don't ever say you're sorry…_but her finger brushed up against his skin, and he suddenly realized that she wasn't just apologizing for keeping him awake.

Even the slight pressure of her finger on his tender, swollen flesh caused pain. Most nights, he was prepared, but last night, he hadn't been able to dodge her desperate, angry fists. He had forgotten, but he remembered now. He would remember every time he looked in the mirror, every time someone gave him a strange look.

No one knew the real reason he had so many black eyes and bruises. Not a soul. He had a feeling that a few suspected, but no one really knew. At least at work, there weren't any jokes or whispered rumors. They knew that his wife could kick his ass if she wanted to. But they also knew that she never would. Most of them did, anyway, the ones that mattered. He didn't care about the rest.

He gave her a small smile. "Don't worry about it," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "I know you like to show me who's the boss in bed."

He thought he could see the beginnings of a smile playing on her lips, but she wasn't ready to let go of the seriousness just yet. "You can hit me back, you know, defend yourself, at least. It would make it a little more fair…"

"Syd, I would never hit you." Never ever. Not in a million years, in a billion lifetimes. Not if his life depended on it…

"And I'd never hit you either, Mike." Her eyes were pleading with him, her voice dripping with guilt and sorrow. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I do." He had known it the first time it had ever happened. It was never him she was thrashing out at, defending herself against. Never.

"How did I get so lucky?" she asked, sighing.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he replied, leaning over to kiss her gently. "I love you."

"I love…" Sydney began, and then stopped, bringing a hand to her stomach, her eyes growing wide. "The baby, Michael," she whispered.

He became worried, but just for a moment. Because then she finally smiled, her face lighting up brighter than the sun. "It's kicking."

He had felt it before, but it never ceased to amaze him. Sydney's contagious smile spread to his face. "Where?" he murmured breathlessly.

"Here," she said, taking his hand in her own and guiding it underneath her shirt. She placed it against her smooth skin, keeping her hand on top of his.

A flicker of pressure, there and gone. Back again, barely there, but he could feel it. That was his baby in there. His and Sydney's. Soon those little feet were going to be pitter pattering all over the house…

"Do you feel it?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Vaughn could only nod, tears of happiness collecting in his eyes, making everything hazy. He blinked them away. "Keep your hand there," he said, sliding his hand out from under hers.

Smiling, she did as he told her and watched as he lifted her shirt further, and brought his face down to her tummy.

He brought his lips down to Sydney's fingers, gently pushing her hand out of the way and holding it in one of his. He placed a tender kiss on the spot where her fingers had been

"Hi little baby," Vaughn murmured, his voice becoming soft and gentle. "Daddy loves you already." He glanced up at Sydney, who was watching him with tears in her eyes. He loved more than anything, these simple moments that they spent together. He wished he could live a lifetime of these moments…

"And Mommy does, too," he added, kissing the spot once again before bringing his lips up to Sydney's. Slowly drinking in vanilla sweetness and tender love.

"Have you been thinking, Mike?" Sydney asked him when he pulled away.

"That depends," Vaughn answered with a smile. "About what?"

"Names. We can't call him little baby forever."

He shrugged. "Little Baby Vaughn. It has a nice ring to it."

Sydney laughed. God, he loved that sound. "Our child will probably not appreciate that when he or she gets older…"

Vaughn nodded. "Kids can be cruel. They'd have a field day with that one…I have been thinking, Syd, but I can't think of anything that'll fit. It has to be just right. Perfect, you know?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "But we'd better think of a name soon. We don't have much time."

How long did they have now? Seven weeks? Six? He still couldn't believe it.

"I know," he replied. "I can't wait."

Silence. Unbearable in the wrong situation, but beautiful when he was with her. Comforting and tranquil. Just right.

She gazed at him intently, finally breaking the silence with a whisper. "I hope the baby has your eyes."

"And your nose," he replied, smiling and bringing his face closer to hers.

"And your dimples."

"Or yours…" he responded, kissing her dimples away.

Sydney sighed, deepening the kiss, but for just a moment, before gently pushing him away.

"Hey, that's not…"

"Mike," she said simply, bringing a finger to his lips to interrupt his protest. "You have to go."

"Where?" He thought she was kidding; he honestly didn't know.

"To the airport." she said, grinning at the confusion she could clearly see on his face. "To pick up your aunt…"

"Oh, shit!" Vaughn cried, pulling away. "Why the hell does she have to come so damn early anyway?!"

"Shhh, Michael. Calm down!"

"But…"

"No, Mike…" she said, bringing a hand up to the side of his face. He leaned into her touch, as she continued. "She probably just wants to make sure she's here for when the baby's born. She felt so bad when she had to miss the wedding, and at least she'll get to be here for the baby shower…"

"But the baby's not due for weeks…"

Sydney smiled, "I know, and you told her that, remember? But she insisted. Besides, it's not like she's staying here or anything. You just have to pick her up and spend a few days with her. She's staying with your mother. Mom's the one who should be complaining."

"I know," he sighed, getting out of bed to get ready.

"Besides, she can't be that bad."

Vaughn gave Sydney a look, which clearly showed that he knew otherwise. "You don't know my aunt."

"Come on, Mike. You can _handle_ it…" she said, her eyes twinkling as she emphasized the word. "After all, you handled me for years, you're ready for anything…"

"That's not fair, Syd!" Vaughn pouted, running back to her side. "Reminding me of that, just as I have to leave…"

"Go!" she shouted, laughing and pointing to the door.

And he did, but not until fifteen minutes later, after he felt she had been thoroughly kissed.

Vaughn was standing in the airport bookstore, paying for his purchase. When he had finished, he turned around and found himself face to face with an angry security guard.

"Does _this_ belong to you?" the security guard growled, gesturing toward a wildly dressed, older woman, whose shoulder he had a firm grip on.

"Aunt Trish," Vaughn sighed, glancing at his watch. "I didn't think your plane landed for another twenty minutes."

"It arrived early," the guard hissed, letting go of Trish's shoulder and giving Vaughn an icy stare. "You should pay attention to the flight schedule."

"What did you do?" Vaughn asked, as he watched the security guard stomp away.

"Hello to you, too, Michael. You haven't seen me for years and this is the greeting I get? Who taught you your manners?"

"My mother," he answered absently.

"Ah, that explains it," Trish said, giving him a sympathetic smile and a pat on the shoulder. "And why weren't you there to get me off the plane?"

"I had to get something and I didn't think you were coming for…"

Trish snatched the book out of his hand. "Baby names…Michael, do you have something to tell me?"

Vaughn raised an eyebrow. "You already know, Aunt Trish. That's why you're here, remember?"

"Ah, yes. Of course. I have such a hard time remembering things sometimes. Except for names. I never forget a name, Michael. Remember that."

"I will," he assured her. "Do you have your luggage?"

"Right here," she said, gesturing to a small suitcase sitting on the floor beside her. "I always carry on, dear. You never know what sort of evil things will find their way into your baggage when you're not watching…"

"Okay, Aunt Trish," Vaughn sighed, deciding not to ask how she was going to last so many weeks with what was in that one small bag. "Let's go."

"So," Trish began, as they made their way through the busy airport. "How is…Cindy, is it?"

"No. It's Sydney."

Trish was quiet. But just for a moment, because as quickly as it came, the moment passed, and words were once again pouring from her mouth. Vaughn was only half listening; his other half was kicking himself for not bringing any earplugs.

"Now, I always knew you were the bold one, but…" She paused and placed a hand on his arm. "Michael, dear…You married a man?"

"What?!" Vaughn stopped in his tracks. "No! Aunt Trish, my _wife's_ name is Sydney. God…" Flustered, he ran a hand through his hair.

"Do you have a picture?" Of course. Photographic evidence. Aunt Trish wouldn't settle for anything less.

"Yeah," he muttered, pulling out his wallet. It opened to the picture of him and Sydney the day they had moved in to their new house. She was sitting in his lap on the porch steps, bright smiles lighting up both their faces. But, as it happened in most of their pictures, neither of them were looking at the camera. They had been so happy then, so carefree…

"Here," he said, showing his aunt the picture.

"She's a woman," Trish stated, nodding. Without warning, she threw her arms around him, her voice raising to a volume that Vaughn was sure even deaf people could hear. "Michael, I'm so glad you married a woman!"

Vaughn felt his face turning a deep shade of red. He had thus far managed to ignore the strange looks others were giving him, but it was difficult to keep his mind off the snickering, laughing, whispering, pointing, and staring all at the same time.

"And she's a pretty one, too."

He definitely didn't need his aunt to tell him that one. Sydney was gorgeous; he had known it the first day he met her, and he reminded her of it everyday.

"Thanks, Aunt Trish. Now can we go, please?" The airport was too tempting a place. It would just be so easy to buy a one-way ticket and accidentally guide his aunt onto a plane…

"Of course. You know, your Uncle Harold has great taste in women. Just the other day, he told me…"

"Uncle Harold's been dead for fifteen years." At least. God, it was probably more like twenty…

"Maybe to you, dear. If you'd only take the time to…"

He should have known. "Never mind, Aunt Trish. Never mind."

This was going to be one hell of a long day, he knew that. What he didn't know, was that it was going to be so much longer than he anticipated…

"Sydney!" Vaughn shouted into his cell. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," she laughed into his ear. "I can hear you, Mike. Loud and clear."

"Sorry, this is usually a bad area. We're on our way home. We'll be there in about half an hour. You need anything?"

"No…It's hot as hell out here, you know."

That's all it took for his forehead to crinkle with concern. "Where are you?"

"On the back porch," she answered simply.

"Syd, it's like a hundred degrees in the shade. Go inside…"

"Let me talk to Sandy," Trish interrupted, reaching for the phone.

"Sydney," Vaughn corrected her.

"What?" Sydney asked.

"No, I was talking to…Whoa, what the…?"

Trish had grabbed the phone from him and was yelling into it, "Hello? Hello?"

"It's upside down," Vaughn said, taking the phone and flipping it over before handing it back to her.

"Hello? Sally?" Trish said.

"Sydney," Vaughn whispered, gritting his teeth.

"…Yes, you too. You know I saw your picture and you're a woman…Yes, but you know, in my day, the women followed the directions of the men…I know that, Susie…"

Vaughn couldn't hear Sydney's replies, but he could see where this conversation was headed. He quickly snatched the phone from his aunt.

"…Hey!"

"Enough, Aunt Trish. Here," he said, pressing a button and pointing out the tuning dial. "Listen to the radio."

Not the smartest idea, he knew, giving his aunt control of the radio. But he really didn't want to go home to an unhappy wife.

"I'm sorry, Syd," he said quietly, and waited a moment for her reply.

"Michael," she said in a low tone. "I can deal with most people…But you have to promise me that you will do your absolute best to keep that woman away from me for the next few weeks. I don't think I can…"

"You got it, Syd," he said with a smile. "Now, will you please go inside?"

She didn't say anything, but he heard the door slam. "Better?"

"Much. Thank you."

"Anything for you, Michael," she said sweetly, and even though he wasn't there with her, he knew she was smiling as she said it.

The radio suddenly changed from a soft classical melody, to a cacophony of disagreeable chords and wailing, completely jarring him from the moment, and making him swerve dangerously close to the little red Volkswagen in the next lane. He reached over and turned the volume down, much to Trish's displeasure.

"Mike, what are you listening to?" Sydney laughed.

"Don't ask," he said with a sigh, glancing over at Trish. She was sitting with her arms folded over her chest and looking out he window.

"Okay, well…" Sydney paused, and he heard a faint ringing. "Oh, I've got to go. Someone's at the door."

"All right, Syd. You go play the good little hostess."

"You know I will."

"I'll see you in a little while. And I got you something at the airport. It's a surprise, I'll show it to you when I get home."

He couldn't wait to see her face when he showed her the baby names book. He had been meaning to pick one up for awhile, but had never found the time.

"I can't wait, Mike. Bye, I lo…"

And for the second time that day, she was stopped from saying those three words. The phone went dead.

For once he didn't worry. The phone had been crackling ever since he had taken it back from Trish, and he knew that he was coming into a bad area. Besides, he would see her soon, and in a matter of minutes, the shower guests would be arriving. There would be more than enough people in the house to take care of her.

Which was why he was surprised when, twenty-five minutes later, he pulled into his driveway and found the guests that should have been inside his house, sitting on his front porch, still holding carefully wrapped gifts and plates of cookies covered in saran wrap.

And that's when he started to worry, when he knew he should have been worried before. That's when he wished he had tried to call her back after the phone had gone dead. When he wished he had been able to tell her that he loved her, that he had been able to hear her say those three little words one last time…

Okay, I have absolutely no idea what to name the baby, so if you guys could give me suggestions that would be great…So, what did you think? There was happy stuff in it, and it was only a little bit sad. Of course, I couldn't resist putting in at least a tiny bit of a cliffhanger ending…Want to know what happens next? Then please review. Reviews make me write a lot faster…


	9. Paradise Lost

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 9: Paradise Lost

Vaughn sat in his car, engine running, too shocked even to move. Everything would have been fine, just fine, if only they weren't still holding their gifts, if only the plates of cookies had been unwrapped and half eaten…

"Why doesn't Sara let them inside?" Trish asked.

He had had more than enough of this. Both his patience and his temper were wearing dangerously thin. "Sydney, God damn it! Her name is Sydney! Not Cindy, not Sally, not Susie or Sara. Sydney!"

"Calm yourself, dear. It was just…"

But he was out of the car and had slammed the door before she could finish her sentence.

A chorus of voices made their way to his ears. "Hello Michael!" Laughter and chattering, whispering and gossip. These women had no idea.

"What are you doing here?"

"Where's Sydney? Did she forget about us?"

If only it were that simple. He forced his way through the crowd of women, shrugging off their hugs and greetings. All of them oblivious to his mood, to the gravity of the situation. All except Jacqueline and Francie. He made eye contact with them as he passed, saw first the questioning, then shock and worry, mirroring back to his eyes. And they didn't even know…

The door wasn't locked, but the guests had refused to go inside out of common courtesy. He went in, quickly closing the door behind him, shutting out the happiness with the party guests. He could hear the murmurs of surprise as the door shut in their faces, but he didn't care.

All his cares, everything else that might have mattered, disappeared the moment he saw it. Out of place, glaring and broken. The phone, the phone that she had been holding. The one that he thought had been carefully hung up after his cell had gone dead. Lying in the middle of the floor, battery cover broken off and batteries a few feet away, like dead bodies after a bloody battle.

Shit.

The door creaked open, he heard it, but just barely. It quickly shut, closing out the murmurs of the shower guests. A hand was on his shoulder, a soft voice whispering in his ear.

"Mike?"

He turned to face his sister, trying to keep the tears at bay for a few moments longer. "Tell them…" he managed to whisper, his voice breaking, "Tell them to leave."

Jacqueline nodded, giving his shoulder a squeeze before turning and going back outside. He heard her voice, but not the words that were spoken. Heard the murmurs of disappointment and protest, and finally, thank God, the sound of the engines starting and wheels rolling down the driveway.

At least there wasn't any blood this time. Or was there? Even with his eyes open, he thought he could see it, dancing crazily before his eyes, painting everything crimson.

The door opened once again, and this time, there was no chattering, no whispering, no laughing. Silence. But this was the kind of silence that was the worst. The kind that was unbearable, deadly.

Those remaining filed noiselessly into the house. Jacqueline with Seth and Kerri (her babysitter had cancelled last minute, he found out later, much later) Aunt Trish, his mother, Francie, and Sydney's friend Maura from work. Evidently, Jacqueline had not been able to convince all of Sydney's friends to leave. Those who were closest to Sydney, those that could sense the fear and knew that something was wrong, remained.

Jacqueline whispered something to her children, and they raced off to the kitchen, taking the stash of paper and crayons out of its hiding place and busying themselves at the kitchen table.

"Call Jack," Vaughn whispered to no one in particular. "And Eric," he added as an afterthought. Francie took it upon herself to call the two men, and after a moment of hesitation in which she seemed to be deciding whether to pick up the phone from the living room floor, went into the kitchen to use the phone there.

Vaughn was still standing in the same spot, frozen to the ground. Jacqueline took his arm and led him over to the couch. He passed his mother on the way there, the look on her face almost making him break down. There was worry, uncertainty, fear…but she didn't know. None of them did.

And for some reason that thought almost made him laugh, the different levels of understanding in the room. From Francie, who at least knew something of Syd's life before; to Jacky and his mother, who understood that there was something more to Sydney's life than just her bank job; to Maura, who thought Syd was just the sweet English teacher next door; and lastly, Aunt Trish, who knew almost nothing at all.

Despite this, all of them thought they knew the whole story, thought they understood the gravity of the situation. But in reality, none of them had any idea what the hell was going on. None of them knew of the hell Syd had gone through to get where she was today…

Francie returned just as quietly as she had left, and joined them on the couches and chairs in the living room. Trish was the first to break the silence. "So, where is your wife, Michael dear? Why didn't she let her guests inside?"

She didn't even understand that something was wrong, terribly wrong. They should have put her out in the kitchen with the children.

Vaughn shot his aunt a dangerous look. Her eyes grew wide and she swallowed fearfully, but she still wasn't wise enough to keep quiet. "I was just wondering, dear, where Stacy is…"

Vaughn's stare became even more threatening. If looks could kill, not only would Aunt Trish be dead, but the wall behind her probably would have exploded and half the neighborhood would be up in flames.

Little Seth chose this unfortunate time to come toddling in the room with something in his hand. "Look what I found, Uncle Mikey!" The little boy represented the least amount of understanding of them all (except for, perhaps, Aunt Trish). At least his sister was old enough to know that the grownups should be left alone, but Seth hadn't a clue. Naivete, simplicity, innocence, trust, and love, all soon to be shattered.

His mother tried to shoo him away, but he made his way over to his uncle and held out a half-eaten bag of M&M's. Vaughn had been able to control himself thus far. But there was a torrent of emotions raging through him that icy stares and spoken words simply could just not express.

He jumped up from the couch, his hand shooting out to slap the bag of M&M's from Seth, his angry fist coming dangerously close to his nephew's little hand. The colorful candy went flying across the room. Blue, green, yellow, orange, brown…and red. All Vaughn could see was the red, as the candy that was supposed to melt in your mouth, not in your hands, seemed to ooze into a puddle before him. Flashing before his eyes, wet and shining. On the floor, the walls, dripped up the stairs…

"Michael!" his mother shrieked, putting her hands over her eyes.

Jacqueline and Maura ran over to the little boy. Jacqueline picked him and held him tightly in her arms, while Maura rubbed his back. Seth wasn't crying, but he was looking at his uncle with wide, frightened eyes.

"What has gotten into you, young man?" Aunt Trish yelled, waving a finger at Vaughn.

Vaughn looked desperately at the faces in front of him. The fear in the eyes of a little boy who had once adored him, the flash of anger from his aunt and sister, curiosity from Maura, sorrow and shame glaring at him from his mother… Only Francie was gazing at him with a cool mixture sympathy and sadness. She was the only one there that at least partially understood. The only one. He couldn't take it anymore.

"You don't get it, any of you!" he shouted at the women, anger boiling inside him, spilling over and out with his words. "You think my life is so God damned perfect!"

"Michael, the children…" Jacqueline whispered, confusion replacing the anger that had been smoldering in her eyes.

Vaughn paused for just a moment and glanced around the room. Seth had buried his face in his mother's neck and Kerri was standing in the doorway, eyes squeezed shut and hands clapped tightly over her ears.

"Take them out of here," Vaughn whispered viciously. "They don't need to hear this."

Jacqueline's eyes grew wide, as she took Kerri by the hand and led her children from the room. She returned alone, a moment later, and Vaughn waited until she was back before he continued.

Vaughn looked toward the hallway his niece and nephew had disappeared down, and attempted to continue in a normal voice, but couldn't seem to find it. It was either shouting or whispering, and for the sake of the children, whispering won out.

"You don't know anything of our life before we were married. Nothing…"

"But Michael, you're so happy now…" his mother tried to console him. But what might have worked when he was a child, couldn't make everything better anymore. His scrapes had become too large for her Band-Aids to cover. Her reassuring words could no longer right all the wrongs that had been committed against him.

"Yes, now," he finally responded. _Except at night, except at night, except at night…_ "But before, we had nothing but stolen moments, fear, and uncertainty. First we had to hide our feelings, and then our relationship, and all because of work. It was dangerous, we're lucky to be alive…"

He was babbling now, he almost didn't know what he was saying. A wave of panic was starting to edge over him, the soft foam of its crest covering the hot toes of his anger. He tried to swallow it, to keep the wave away. Panic wouldn't help Sydney or their baby…Sydney…their little baby…Oh God…

"But Sydney worked for a bank before she became a teacher," Maura said. "What was the problem with…?"

A voice in the back of his head was taunting her. _You don't know a thing. You don't know a thing…_

"No, she didn't. She worked with me. She was a spy, a mole, a double agent for the CIA working inside an enemy group…"

"I know you're upset, Michael," his mother interrupted. "But honestly…"

"No, mother," Vaughn answered, his tone suddenly sharp. "You don't get it. Why do you think we were so quick to marry after I first "met" her? I had known her for years. I was her handler, I sent her on missions… Ask her some time, if you can see her scars…" _If you still can, if you still can, if you still can…_

He paused, the anger melting away, finally cooled by the wave of panic, and replaced instead by a sudden flash of fear and worry. His forehead wrinkled in concern and he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

No one spoke this time. They were beginning to understand. It was beginning to make sense, beginning to sound dangerous; they were starting to become afraid. And they hadn't even heard the worst yet, they didn't even know…

"She's made many enemies," he finally continued. "And the worst one, the one that's been haunting her dreams for months, he beat her, he hurt her, he…" Vaughn almost couldn't bring himself to say it, but he had to tell them, he had to make them understand. The situation was so much worse than they imagined, so much worse… "He…raped her."

He buried his face in his hands. Everyone was quiet, even Aunt Trish.

It was starting to hit him full force now, the fact that she was gone. Slamming against him like a ton of bricks, a semi truck, and a freight train all mixed into one. _She's gone, she's gone, she's gone…_

And he had her. That bastard. He had taken his wife, he had taken his child, he had taken his world, his life, his paradise. Vaughn shuddered, a chill overtaking him as he finally let the name pass his lips, vile and foul and ugly. "Fahim," he hissed, spitting it out onto the living room carpet, foul tasting and filthy, bile and acid.

The anger returned quickly now, shooting back at him with hot coals and fire. He hadn't said that name in over a year, he hadn't let himself, hadn't wanted to. Now he felt dirty and tainted. Now he wished he hadn't said it, hadn't had to…

Again he hadn't been able to protect her. Again, again, again… How many more times would that happen? When would they finally be able to live in peace and paradise?

The women were silent, staring at him. Disbelief and amazement, sorrow and tears. Now they knew, they knew it all…

"Oh, my Michael," his mother began, and wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her face in his neck and continuing her whispered sobs in gibberish and rapid French.

"Michael, I'm so sorry," Jacqueline murmured, squeezing his hand.

And he moved his lips to tell her not to apologize, but found that he couldn't get the words past the lump that had formed in his throat. _Don't say you're sorry, Syd. Don't ever say you're sorry…_

He blinked back the tears. Now wasn't the time for crying. It wasn't, it wasn't. Don't cry, Michael. Please don't cry…

Maura stared at him in disbelief. Her gentle friend and coworker. The one who taught Shakespeare and Hemingway and Thoreau in the classroom right next to hers…

Aunt Trish had closed her eyes tightly and began rocking back and forth, murmuring something unintelligible, raising her hands in the air, and, no doubt, summoning the spirits of their dead ancestors to help them.

"You didn't tell me," Francie finally whispered, in a tone that was guilty and sad. "You didn't tell me…"

He looked into her dark eyes. Pain and fear; brown mirroring green… He and Syd hadn't thought it would be necessary. They never thought that anyone would have to know. They thought in had all been over the moment they had left Egypt.

At least that's what they had wanted to think. But somewhere in the back of their minds, they had known. Known that it wasn't over, because that bastard wasn't dead. Known that someday they would have to tell, someday. They had been hoping that that someday would never come…

But it had. It had come with a vengeance, tearing apart everything he had ever known. He wished he could stop the day, rewind time. Now he was wishing for yesterday. He would do anything for yesterday if only it would give him another chance, another chance to protect her, to protect their little baby…

A sudden knocking jarred him from his thoughts. Everyone looked toward the door, but no one moved. They were frozen in place, shock still marring their faces, his mother's arms still locked around his neck. Vaughn would have answered the door, but even if his mother hadn't been gripping him so tightly, he wouldn't have been able to move.

Francie was the first to thaw, the first to recover. She had, after all, known more than the rest. She stood up and opened the door.

Vaughn had been expecting Jack or Weiss, and was surprised when Dixon stepped inside, his eyes sweeping across the room, taking in the scene, the sorrow, the tears. He understood right away. He knew.

"Diane told me that Sydney wasn't here," he said, approaching Vaughn. "I want to help."

Vaughn only nodded. Now wasn't the time for pride, it wasn't the time to say that he could find his wife and child by himself. He would need all the help he could get, and he knew it. That bastard was dangerous. Oh God, what he could have done to Sydney already…

The door slammed open, and in stormed Jack, cell phone in hand. "…I don't care who the hell you think you are…"

"God, help us!" Aunt Trish wailed. And Vaughn normally Vaughn would have laughed, but there was no mirth to be found anywhere today.

"…No, you do not understand…" Jack continued to shout into his cell, as he stomped across the room toward Vaughn, Dixon, and the now even more frightened women. "…Do not hang up on…" Disgusted, he pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at it maliciously.

Seeming to finally notice the startled crowd in front of him, Jack nodded curtly in their direction. "Michael?" he asked quietly, that one word forming all the questions that he couldn't bring himself to ask.

Vaughn nodded sadly. For a moment, Jack seemed too stunned to move, but then his cell phone rang, and he quickly answered it. "What did you find?…Yes, it's a go…No, now!…I need," he paused as his eyes scanned those before him, "three tickets to…"

"Four!" someone shouted from outside, and a breathless Eric Weiss came running through the already open door. "Four tickets…" he panted, bending over and bringing his hands to rest on his knees. Francie ran over to him, flinging her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

"Make it four tickets," Jack continued. "…No, dammit! To Cairo!…Right. I'll be there in twenty." He hung up and sat down on the loveseat next to Aunt Trish.

She eyed him uneasily and slid as far away from his as she could. "Michael, dear," she said, her voice high and nervous. "Who in God's name is this man?"

"Jack Bristow," Jack responded automatically, extending a hand more out of habit than any desire to be courteous.

"Bristow…" Trish said slowly, taking his hand and shaking it. "Sophie's father?"

"Sydney! Sydney! Sydney!" Vaughn shouted, untangling himself from his mother's arms and jumping up from his seat on the couch. His eyes were a vicious, steely gray, a startling switch from the sparkling green that they had been earlier that day.

He was drawing dangerously close to his aunt, who had unintentionally become the vent for his wrath. She laughed, nasally and shrill. "You have the temper of your Uncle Edward," she stated, her voice high and unnatural.

"God damn it! What the hell is wrong with you! Why can't you…"

"Uncle Mikey?" A sweet, tearful voice interrupted. A voice that stopped Vaughn in his tracks and melted the anger away.

All heads turned toward the sound, and saw the two pairs of tearful eyes that peered in from the doorway. No one knew how long they had been there, how much they had heard. No one knew exactly when Kerri had become frightened enough to cling to her little brother and hold him tightly in her arms, no one knew when the tears had started streaming down their little cheeks.

Seth broke free from his sister's grasp and ran toward his Uncle. "Will my Auntie Syddy be okay?"

And that's when it happened. When everything came crashing down in a shower of glass, stinging and blinding and dangerous. His life, everything that he had ever known, everything he had ever lived for… All of it had been broken. His paradise had been shattered, and he couldn't pick up the pieces. Not this time. Not all alone. Everything had been lost…

Vaughn fell slowly down to his knees and took his nephew into his arms. The tears had finally broken free and were flowing quickly down his cheeks, one after another, dropping onto his nephew's now damp hair.

"I don't know, little man. I just don't know." 

Thanks for all the help with the names, everyone. With any luck, I'll be able to squeeze out another chapter before I leave for school, but after that you're just going to have to bear with me, because I don't know how the updates will go. And, of course, thanks for all the reviews; I love them!


	10. A Living Nightmare

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 10: A Living Nightmare

Slowly, she was remembering. It was a dream, it had to be…

The phone. _I love you, Michael. I love you. She had said it, but he couldn't hear. The phone had gone dead. She had wanted to call him back, but…_

That's when the door had flung open. That's when her paradise had disappeared. Swallowed up down the dark barrel of a gun; the gun pointed at her, at her baby. Burned away by the icy sparkle in his eyes. Shattered by his laugh, high pitched and piercing.

She had dropped the phone, heard it crash against the floor. She had raised her hands above her head, surrendering, giving in, to him, to everything. _Don't hurt my baby, please don't hurt my little baby…_

But hadn't cared that she had given in. He had pulled the trigger anyway.

One shot. Point blank range. She could still hear it echoing in her ears.

There should have been blood, red and sticky, painting the floor crimson, splattered against the walls, the furniture, everything. She should have been dead. But tranquilizer darts aren't that kind; they entail danger, torture, pain. She thought for a moment, that a bullet would have been better, would have been kinder…

It was a dream. It had to be. Please…

She opened her eyes, praying to find herself in her room, in Michael's arms. Instead, she found that her nightmare had not yet come to an end. The room. That room. The sun was peeking in through a crack in between the curtains, but it was still the same. It was still horrific. It was that room, the very one where… Oh, God, no…

She closed her eyes again and tried to force herself to wake up, squeezing her eyes tightly shut and then slowly opening them. It was only when she cried out for Michael, and found that he wasn't beside her that she truly let herself remember, that she let it sink in.  

No…No, no, no…

That's when she began to cry. The tears slow and unfair and angry, burning their way down her cheeks.

And Michael wasn't there to hold her, to comfort her. He wasn't there to tell her that it was going to be all right. He wasn't there to kiss away her tears. She would have to dry them herself. And she did, wiping them away hurriedly, angrily. She hadn't wanted to cry, not when she knew that he could walk into the room at any moment.

She instinctively brought a hand down to her stomach, but she knew that it wouldn't be enough to protect the little baby that was there. She and Michael had been so close…so close. They had almost had everything, everything they would ever need.

They already had each other. They already had trust and love. All they had needed was someone to share it with, someone to watch over and to show what was right. They had almost had their little baby, their family. Everything had almost been perfect.

Now all that, all of it, the love, the happiness, the family, all of it, could be taken away. In the blink of an eye; the squeezing of a trigger; the flash of a knife, cold steel running over her body, mixing unmercifully with the fire of the wounds it inflicted…

She shivered and wrapped her arms tightly around her, but even that didn't help. It was so cold, so cold. Frost and ice and snow, blue and white, breath crystallizing in the air, tears freezing as they made their way down her cheeks…

It seemed to know that something was wrong. Her little baby seemed to understand that its mommy needed its help. It kicked her, adding a flicker of warmth and hope to the desperate situation, thawing the ice, melting the snow, like a ray of sunshine on a desolate winter's day.

She knew that as long as she had her little baby with her, everything would somehow be okay. She didn't know how, but she let herself think that it would, let herself hope, let herself dream. She slowly and quietly moved to the window, cautiously opening the curtains and letting the sun warm her. It would be alright, it would be alright…

The view was a surprise, not the barren desert that she had expected. It was a city, filled with buildings and people. They were too far away for her to see clearly, for she had expected to be gazing out of a second story window and found herself instead to be at least ten floors up.

The scenery was still that of a desert, however, brown and dry and dirty, so that didn't mean that she wasn't still in Cairo, or at least still in Egypt. That didn't mean that Vaughn wouldn't be able to find her. Please, don't let it mean that, please…

There was a sudden rustling in the room, and Sydney quickly turned, almost scared to see what was behind her, expecting to see him. Instead, she found a young woman, no she wasn't a woman, she was no more than a girl. The poor little creature stared up at her with wide eyes, her body scrawny and dirty, scantily clad in clothing that was no more than heap of rags.

"Where are we?" Sydney whispered, in English, Arabic, and any other language she thought this girl might understand. "Please…"

But the girl didn't answer, her eyes speaking of nothing but sadness, holding no clues to either the answer to Sydney's question, or the fact as to why she wasn't responding. Instead, the girl held up a small tray with her thin hands, lifting it so that it was almost eye-level.

On it was a drink of some sort, and a covered bowl. The girl said nothing, the look in her eyes enough to tell Sydney that whatever was in that bowl was for her, her evening meal, no doubt.

Sydney opened it carefully, almost afraid to see what type of food that monster had prepared for her. Inside, the bowl was filled to the brim with tiny circles, all the same, all shining. It took her a moment to realize what they were.

M&M's. Red M&M's. Michael never ate the red ones. Never. And that bastard knew it. He knew, he knew…

In a flash of red anger that matched the somehow hideous color of the candy, Sydney picked up the bowl and flung it. The color-coated pieces skittered around the room in a sudden shower. So there was the rain, all she needed now was the thunder and lightning, but those would be quick in coming, she knew. Both with her rising anger, and his inevitable approach…

The girl's eyes grew wide, but she expressed no other reaction to Sydney's sudden outburst. She placidly knelt down and began to pick up the M&M's, the candy pieces plinking softly as one by one, she placed them in the bowl.

"I'm sorry," Sydney murmured, kneeling down to help her. "I'm so sorry…"

The girl didn't say anything, not even looking up to acknowledge Sydney's apology.

Sydney wondered if the girl's lack of speaking was due merely to miscommunication, or something else, something deeper. Before she could voice this question, however, a harsh, revolting sound reached her ears.

"Ah, Miss Bristow."

She froze, her face cast downward. That voice was shards of ice and the fires of hell all swirled and molded into one. It was the voice she could have never forgotten, no matter how hard she tried. A chill ran down her spine to the depths of her soul, causing her to shiver.

He saw it and laughed. God, how she wished she couldn't hear. She would give anything to never again have to listen to that cruel, revolting laughter. She wanted to cry, but wouldn't let him have the satisfaction. Instead, she stood up, and spoke with an icy fire that matched his.

"That's not my name anymore."

Sydney was fighting not to let the tears escape, not to let a scream rip itself from her lips, not to run, as fast and as far as she could… The girl, however, hadn't seemed to notice that that man was in the room. She continued quietly picking up the candy, only looking up when Sydney stood, and quickly turning her gaze back down and returning to her task. That sickly musical, yet harshly grating voice had no effect on her, drew no reaction whatsoever.

"It is when you're with me, my dear," Fahim responded, raising an eyebrow and drawing closer. "For as far as I'm concerned, Mr. Vaughn was never anything more than your handler…"

And this almost made her break down, almost made her forget that she didn't want to cry. The tears were stinging her eyes. Michael was so much more than just her handler. So much, so much… But of course this sick son of a bitch could never understand that. Never.

"…You didn't enjoy the candy, I see. I would think that you would be used to eating so many of the red ones since your dear Agent Vaughn never touched them…"

Sydney noticed that the girl had stood up and backed away when Fahim had come closer, when she could see his dusty boots crunching on the candy. Fear glittered in her dark eyes, matching that which Sydney hoped she was able mask in her own.

He was right next to her now, his closeness disgustingly putrid. His lips were moving, and she knew that sound was coming from them, but she couldn't hear the words, she didn't want to. She would just let her mind drift, taking her away from this nightmare, this hell…

But then his slimy fingers were running up and down her arm. And she couldn't block that out, she just couldn't. It was like trying to ignore a snake slowly twining its way around your neck, tighter and tighter, until…

"Stop it," she hissed, angrily slapping his hand away.

"Don't worry, my dear," he laughed, his eyes twinkling. "We won't take things too far…"

No, they wouldn't. She wouldn't let him, not this time. Not like in her dream. She wouldn't, she wouldn't…

"…I can content myself with Shadya for the time being." With those words, he gestured to the girl and she quickly but reluctantly approached him.

He pulled the girl roughly so that she was standing directly in front of him, facing Sydney. With one hand, he reached down to fondle one of her breasts through the thin material of her shirt, while the other pulled her long hair away from her neck to allow his lips room to make a slimy path from her ear to her shoulder.

The girl said nothing, a single tear escaping and slowly making its way down her cheek, her sad eyes speaking volumes, spinning tales of abuse and misery.

"Don't let him do this to you," Sydney whispered, not sure whether she was speaking more to the girl or herself. "Don't…"

Fahim laughed, his lips still pressed against the girl's neck. "She can't hear you," he said, giving the girl's neck a long, lavish lick, laughing cruelly when she shivered.

He pulled away and turned the girl so that she was facing him. "Isn't that right, my pet?" he said, placing a finger underneath her chin and tilting it upward.

The girl didn't answer, and he smiled at Sydney, an evil, twisted smirk. He said something to the girl using a string of crude gestures, his sorry attempt at some type of sign language, and she quickly ran from the room.

"You see?" he asked, watching the girl leave. "Now, Shadya's not as…pleasurable as you, my dear, but she will do for the time being." He glanced down at Sydney's stomach and smiled. "Until our child is born, of course, and all uncomfortable obstacles are out of the way…"

_Our child, our child, our child…_

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sydney asked, her voice no more than a whisper. It had been over a year since he had done that to her. There was no way in hell this child was his.

Fahim's eyes sparkled, unspoken laughter lurking in them, playing there as well as on his lips. "You owe me that much, don't you agree, my dear? After all, in days gone by, the act of "mating" was solely for the production of offspring."

He paused, smirking. Sydney was too shocked to speak. She didn't know what to say.

"What would you have done, I wonder," Fahim mused, "had our coupling begotten a child?" He brought a hand up to stroke his chin, deep in thought. "You probably would have killed it, no doubt…"

"No," Sydney managed to whisper. She didn't know why she had interrupted him, why she had answered him that way. The child would have been half his, after all…

But it would have been hers too, there was no way in hell she could have killed her own child, her own little baby…

"Really?" Fahim smirked, amused. "It's not that I would blame you if you did. What would you have done with my child, then?"

"It wouldn't have been yours," Sydney answered automatically, not knowing where her responses were coming from. "It would have never known you, never heard your name. It would have been mine and Michael's…"

"But it wouldn't have been your Michael's child," Fahim interrupted, waving a finger at her. "That wouldn't have been fair to me, now would it?"

Sydney moved her mouth to speak, but had lost her voice again. Who was he to talk about being fair?

"It doesn't matter, my sweet, not right now," he laughed, harsh and grating against her ears. "Don't trouble yourself over the answer. We will have plenty of time to discuss such matters as these."

"No," Sydney said firmly, finding her voice again, and shaking her head. No, no, no… "Michael will come. You'll see; he'll take care of you. He knows where your compound is…" She trailed off and walked toward the window, glancing out, as if searching for Michael outside, wishing he were there, wishing he would swoop down and save her, her guardian angel…

"Don't worry, my dear. I had no doubts that your "Michael" would be at my compound in Cairo as soon as he could find a flight there… Which is precisely why we're not anywhere near my compound… Or Cairo for that matter."

A sharp intake of air, cold and shocking, choking her. She gasped for air, her lungs on fire. A flurry of coughs racked her body, making her fight her breath. How would Michael ever find her now? Oh God, what would she do…

Finally, she caught her breath, made peace with the fact that she wouldn't have such an easy escape this time, that she would have to find her own way out, that there was so much more at stake now than there ever had been before.

Fahim was leaning against the doorway, waiting. He grinned when she finally looked up at him, her chest heaving. "You wouldn't have hesitated to take my child from me, my sweet," he began, "And to return the favor, I will not hesitate to take your Mr. Vaughn's child from him. I have already taken you from him, have I not?"

No, no, no, nononononononono… This wasn't happening. It wasn't. It couldn't be. Everything that she had worked so hard for, everything that she had fought for, everything that she had lived for. It was falling down around her, shattered into tiny pieces, broken almost beyond repair…

Fahim snickered, finding amusement in the fear that had finally made its way into her eyes. "I hope our baby has your eyes," he said, turning and closing the door.

And when he said that, and she heard the lock turning in the door…that was when she gave in to her emotions, when she started to cry. The tears filled her eyes, and she couldn't keep them in any longer. One big, lazy drop made its way down her cheek and others quickly followed, tracing the path of the first, and making their own. She didn't try to wipe them away, she didn't want to.

Sydney turned back to the window and gazed out. "Michael…" she whispered through her tears. "I love you…"

She brought her fingertips to her lips and kissed them, holding them out the window and letting her sweet kiss float on the soft breeze and find its way to Michael on the wind…

Thanks for still helping me with names, and for all the great reviews. Sorry this took so long, but I've been at orientation for the past few days, and now school has finally started. Please review and make my day. This is my first day of classes and I think I'm going to need a little pick me up when I get back. Thanks for bearing with me so far. Hopefully it won't be too too long before I can get up the next chapter.


	11. One to Ten

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 11: One to Ten

Everything was happening so fast. It was as if the world was taking place around him, and he was just there to watch.

Somehow, he got into the car. He only remembered to fasten his seatbelt after they had been on the road for ten minutes, and then only because Jack was not the best driver when he was under this much stress, and a semi almost came veering into the passenger side door.

"Um, Jack, where are you going?" Weiss asked from the backseat, finally breaking the deathlike silence that had descended upon the car.

Only then did Vaughn realize that they were going the wrong way, away from the airport, away from Cairo, away from Sydney and their little baby…

"What the hell…" he whispered, but only because he couldn't think of anything else to say. There were no words to describe how he was feeling, and he couldn't think. Speech had become an effort, thinking of the right words too difficult a task.

"Going to get some supplies," Jack grumbled.

Supplies? What were they, runaway children going to the store to get peanut butter and jelly?

"Why?" Weiss asked, saving Vaughn the trouble.

Jack accelerated viciously and made a dangerous turn onto the exit ramp. Horns were blaring, and in all rights, they should have been dead. Weiss was gripping the seat so tightly that his knuckles were turning white and Dixon had closed his eyes and grabbed onto the door.

Weiss should have remained quiet. Jack's strategy would have unfolded with patience and time.

"We can't just show up without equipment or a plan!" Jack snapped, coming dangerously close to a telephone pole.

No one responded and silence filled the car once again. Jack soon pulled into an apartment complex, and the car screeched to a halt. Dixon and Weiss shakily exited and took a moment to stand quietly, enjoying the feel of solid ground beneath their feet.

As soon as Jack got out of the car, he immediately stormed up to the front of the building and dialed a number.

"Hello?" an oddly familiar voice asked over the speaker.

"It's Jack. Open the door."

"O-okay… Just let…" But the rest of his words were lost as Jack pressed a button, hanging up the phone.

The door clicked open, and the four men stepped inside. Jack led them upstairs and down the hall, stopping at apartment 4C. Seeming annoyed that the door wasn't already open, he knocked impatiently.

The door swung open and there stood a very flustered Marshall.

"Mr. Bristow, I…wow…" he began, but stopped when he noticed the rest of the crowd. "Uh, hi… I didn't know that, um…" He ran back into the room, straightening the pillows on the couch and picking a bowl up off the coffee table. "I don't have much to uh, offer, but I uh…" He shoved the bowl into their faces, revealing its brightly colored contents.

Of course. M&M's. Vaughn turned away. He couldn't look at them, he couldn't. It was taking everything he had not to grab the bowl and hurtle it across the room, spilling the brightly colored candies everywhere, just like the pieces of his life.

Luckily, Jack saved him from having to face the taunting pieces of candy any longer.

"We're not here for social purposes, Marshall," he said icily, as he pushed his way into the room.

"Are you sure, because I was just in the middle of watching The Sound of Music and…"

Vaughn had had enough.

"Sydney's gone."

As he spoke the words, he finally comprehended it. It wasn't a dream; it wasn't a nightmare. It was real.

The second the words passed his lips, he knew it. It was the truth. Oh God, she's gone…

"Who…who took her?" Marshall asked.

But Vaughn wasn't going to say that name. Not again. Once had been enough, had been more than enough.

He ran a hand through his hair, and began pacing the room. One step after another. Even that was becoming difficult. The voices of Jack, Marshall, Dixon, and Weiss blended and melded into one. A hum, something not real, not able to be heard. The volume of the TV seemed to become louder, its music harsh and taunting.

_The hills are alive with the sound of music…_

He needed to concentrate, needed to focus. He wasn't going to be able to help Sydney like this. He wasn't going to be able to save her, to save their little baby.

Breathe. Deep breath in, and then out. Count to ten. Slowly. Carefully. Don't skip any numbers. Don't make a mistake.

He didn't. Somehow, he made it to ten, and he felt better. He didn't know how, and he didn't know why, but just that little piece of information, the fact that he could make it to ten, made everything seem so much better.

Vaughn began to think that it shouldn't, it wasn't. He began to wonder if Sydney would make it to ten, if she could hold on that long. But that bastard wouldn't kill her, he wouldn't…

And so he didn't let himself think that anything could go wrong. He focused on the stories his mother used to tell him when he was a little boy, remembering King Arthur and Lancelot, Hercules, Superman, and every other man of strength and power, anyone else who had ever succeeded in saving the damsel in distress.

It was childish; he knew it. It was innocent and naïve. But it was also what kept him going, what gave him the strength to stop pacing, to listen to the conversation. It's what made him think that he would save his wife, and that everything would be okay.

Marshall had run out of the room and come back with a handful of gadgets, a proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

 "I, um, don't know what kind of…situations you might, you know…run into with something like this, so I, uh…"

"Our plane takes off in twenty minutes," Jack interrupted him.

"Oh, okay, it's just that…right, twenty minutes…" He glanced at his watch. "And now it's probably nineteen, right?…But, um, here is a lock picking device," he said, holding a small object up, "and I have these…um, well, guns." He picked up the two guns and handed them to Jack. "Okay, they look like guns, but they're not, so don't worry. You won't, uh, kill anybody… I mean, if you wanted to, you could, but you might have to, you know…"

"Are they tranquilizers?" Dixon asked.

"Yes, right, exactly… I'm not a really a big fan of any real violence. Blood, you know, it kind of freaks me out…"

He closed his eyes and could see Sydney lying on the ground, helpless. The blood trickled down her face, her arms, her legs, washing over her entire body, marring her beautiful, perfect skin.

And he couldn't listen anymore. He just couldn't. He had to stop, and count to ten. He missed the rest of the conversation, didn't know what else had been said. He had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other to get out of Marshall's apartment, down the stairs, into the car. He hadn't realized that Jack wasn't driving until he happened to look down and notice that his seatbelt wasn't buckled in and he was still alive. Out of the car, into the airport, get the ticket, get onto the plane…

Cairo, Egypt

They were there. He would say that is almost before he could count to ten, but he knew that that's not true. He had spent the entire plane ride counting to ten in any language he could think of, until the numbers had become confused and mixed together. _One, deux, drei, four, cinque, seis, sept, huit, nove, ten…_

This is where he would find Sydney, where he would find their little baby. In a matter of minutes, seconds, hours at the most, he would be able to take them into his arms, take them home, never let them out of his sight again.

This thought fueled him, gave him the power to speak, to move, to function.

"This way," he said, speaking for the first time since they had left Marshall's apartment.

It was eerily quiet as they approached the gate. No guards, no sign of life. It was silent, silent as death…but no, he wasn't going to think of that. Not now, not when he was so close to getting Sydney back…

"Watch out," Dixon said, gently nudging Vaughn out of the way. He went to work with the lock-picking device, opening the gate in a matter of seconds. The gate squeaked on its hinges, hurting his ears after the deafening silence. Too loud and out of place; it hadn't squeaked before.

But it wasn't the time to think of before; that's what would get him in trouble, would make him lose focus. It was today, it was now; don't think of yesterday, don't think of tomorrow…

"Let's go," Vaughn said, and the three other men nodded.

He led them up the path, to the front door. He almost didn't try the handle, almost stepped back and let Dixon at it to pick the lock. But the handle turned, and the door opened.

He stepped inside the front hall, remembering every inch of it, every gaudy vase, every design in the tile and the paint. It was plastered in his memory, he couldn't have shaken it out if he tried.

The group looked curiously around the room. Vaughn knew something wasn't right. There were no guards, no security anywhere. He tried not to think what this might mean, what it probably meant. He didn't want to think about that, didn't want to believe.

Jack was the first to speak. "Let's split up. We can cover more ground that way."

"Good idea," Dixon murmured, ready for action.

"Yeah," Weiss agreed, still glancing around the lavishly decorated hallway.

Vaughn only nodded. He had lost his voice again; it was dancing somewhere around the hall, shouting at him from the high ceiling, from up in the rafters.

"Michael, you and Eric search the rooms on this floor," Jack began. "Dixon and I will take the upstairs. Here." He handed Weiss one of the tranquilizer guns and gave Vaughn a communicator. "Use the communications device only in the event of an emergency. We don't know if they have anything that might pick up the signal. And don't shoot to kill. We might need someone for questioning in case…" he trailed off.

The four men stood in silence for a moment. Finally Dixon spoke. "We'll meet you back here in twenty minutes…Good luck." He took Jack's arm and they headed up the stairs.

Weiss glanced at Vaughn. "Ready?"

Vaughn nodded. "Let's go," he whispered.

He led the way down the hall, Weiss following at a close distance, the tranquilizer gun aimed straight ahead. Weiss turned to open the first door, but Vaughn kept walking.

"Hey, aren't we…"

"She won't be in any of these rooms," Vaughn answered.

"You don't know that for a fact," Weiss replied, giving his friend a curious look. "We should check all the rooms, just as a precaution. You never know…"

"She won't be in any of these rooms," Vaughn repeated, his voice a harsh, forced whisper.

Weiss didn't argue any further. He nodded and motioned for Vaughn to keep walking, but Vaughn didn't see him. He was focused on something down the hall, on the one opened door in the hallway, on the window that was throwing light into just the right spot…

"Mike?" His friend's voice was soft and patient. He was worried, but he didn't get it. No one ever would. No one had been there when he had searched for her; no one had been there when he found her…

Vaughn walked quickly and suddenly down the hall, making Weiss jog to catch up with him.

As he got closer he thought he saw it. He thought that there was something on the floor, something that made his skin crawl and his blood run cold. Something wet and glistening. Red. He hated red.

But he blinked and it was gone. Thank God it was gone. He couldn't deal with that right now. He didn't know what he would have done if…

He walked into the room without thinking, without checking to see if anyone was there, if there was any danger.

He glanced around the room.

_All the blood; smearing the carpet, streaking the walls._

Oh God.

The blood. The misery. The pain. He could have prevented it, all of it, but he hadn't. It was his fault, his fault, his fault…

He closed his eyes, willing his breathing to return to normal. He felt Weiss' hand on his shoulder and shrugged it off.

"Mike?"

Not now. Not again. Please…

"Michael?"

He opened his eyes. The room was immaculate. A new vase replaced the one that had been smashed, the sword was nowhere to be seen.

The room was perfect. Perfect, that is, if you overlooked the faded brown stains on the wall and carpet. The only sign of her struggle over a year ago. The only memory the room held of her pain.

But at least they were brown and faded. At least they weren't new and wet and glaring. At least he could only see the blood with his eyes closed. At least it wasn't really there…

"Mike?"

Vaughn turned to face his friend. Weiss breathed a sigh of relief and gave Vaughn's arm a reassuring squeeze.

"You gonna be okay?"

Vaughn tried to give him a smile, tried to show him that it was alright, that it would be alright. He couldn't, though. His ability to smile had disappeared the moment he had returned home and found the shower guests standing on his front porch, the minute he saw that the plates of cookies were still wrapped up and the presents were unopened…

Weiss understood, letting the silence and the sadness in Vaughn's eyes speak louder than words.

"It'll be okay, Mike. We'll find her, I promise."

A promise. He had made promises too…

_"I'm here now, and I'm never going to leave you again."  
  
_

"Pr…promise me."

_"I promise."_

"Thanks," Vaughn somehow managed to whisper.

Weiss nodded. "Come on, let's check the other rooms."

"She's not here," Vaughn murmured. It had just dawned on him at that moment. She's not here. He could feel it; he knew it.

"We'll check them anyway," Weiss said gently, moving towards the door and disappearing from view.

_Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf_…

He was almost done, he had almost made it to ten, but before he could finish, he was interrupted. A sound. A gunshot. Loud and painful, making him flinch. He tried to run into the hall and toward the sound, but he couldn't move. He was frozen.

Another shot rang through the air, followed by a scream, a sound even more painful than that of the gun. Dammit.

He knew it wasn't Sydney. The scream had been male, the voice wasn't hers, but it still rooted him to the ground.

Sights and sounds crashed mercilessly through his head. That one sound, a gunshot, had been the only reason that that bastard was still alive. If it hadn't been for that gun, this never would have happened, that son of a bitch never would have been able to take Sydney again…

There was shouting now, Jack and Dixon had come downstairs. More gunshots and then silence. Only once the silence flooded his ears was Vaughn able to move. He walked toward the door and stood in the frame.

Now there was blood. _Dripping on the floor, splattered on the walls…_ But no, it wasn't like that, not at all. There was blood, but it wasn't Sydney's. It belonged to a small, dirty man who was lying on the floor with Jack looming over him, and…

Weiss.

Propped up against the wall with Dixon kneeling next to him. It was the leg, thank God it was only the leg, but still…

"Eric, I'm…" He couldn't say it. Vaughn knew he should have been there, should have come out of the room to help him, but…

"No, Mike," Weiss said slowly, out of breath. "It's not your fault."

It wasn't, it wasn't, it shouldn't have been…

But it was. He knew it was…

Don't say you're sorry, Syd. Don't ever say you're sorry… 

Vaughn nodded and turned away. Dixon had out his cell phone and was talking calmly to the emergency dispatcher. Jack was standing over the guard, aiming the man's own rifle at him.

"Where is my daughter?"

"I swear to you. I know nothing." The tears were falling, dripping onto the floor almost as quickly as the blood oozing from the wound in his side.

"Nothing?" Jack asked maliciously.

"Nothi…Ahh!" Another gunshot, this one in the shoulder.

Something inside him snapped, and Vaughn was suddenly filled with a desperate, dangerous anger. He strode over to them, ripping the rifle from Jack's hands. Jack willingly gave it up to him and backed away.

"Please," the man pleaded, trying to raise his hands in the air.

"Where the hell is my wife?" Vaughn whispered slowly, bringing the end of the rifle to rest against the man's head. "And don't you dare lie to me."

The man swallowed nervously. Next to Vaughn's vicious stare, Jack's had seemed like a glance from a puppy.

"I do not…"

"Un."

And he started the counting once again, slow and deliberate, harsh and venomous.

"…know, I swear…"

"Deux."

He wasn't going to make it to ten this time, he didn't have the patience, not anymore.

"Please…"

There was a pause, his emerald eyes were smoldering. 

"Trois."

Another pause, another half a second that seemed to last a lifetime.

"Alexandria, Fahim's in…"

A swift explosion and silence. It was too late. His anger was too much to hold back. The trigger had been pulled.

The paramedics arrived to take Weiss to the hospital, and Vaughn, Jack, and Dixon headed to Alexandria.

They followed every source; they followed every lead. They found Fahim's compound in Alexandria. It was falling apart, the brick crumbling, the floor creaking whenever they took a step.

He wasn't there and neither was Sydney. They found another man, perhaps another guard, perhaps an innocent citizen who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, he knew information about Fahim that he wasn't willing to give up easily. He was finally convinced to share what he knew, just as the guard before him had been, and he received a bullet to the brain for his troubles.

They followed his trail to Memphis with the same results. Their next lead took them out of Africa and into the Middle East. Every time there was a compound, every time there was someone else to point them in a different direction, every time, there was no Sydney, no little baby, no one to save.

Hours turned to days, and days turned to weeks, until it seemed to Vaughn as if they had spent a lifetime looking for her.

Dixon received an urgent call from home; his family missed them, they needed him. He didn't want to go, but Jack convinced him. His family didn't need to be torn apart.

And then there were two.

They had followed every lead they had been given. Vaughn began to wonder if he would ever get to see his precious wife, if he would ever get to hold his child. He would always make himself believe that they were still alive, that every time they stormed into another one of Fahim's compounds that that would be the one. That he would get to take Sydney in his arms and bring her home.

But he was quickly beginning to lose hope. They had found and infiltrated seven different compounds in twenty-two days. Some were in buildings, some in houses, some shacks, or caves, some in cities, some in the desert, some in the middle of nowhere. All were a disappointment. Every last one.

She was not there. She never was, never had been.

As they stood in a city, looking up at the high-rise building that was the eighth compound, Vaughn began to wonder if there was such thing as hope. He would never stop looking for her, but did that even matter anymore?

He took a deep breath and counted to ten. It wasn't working as well as it used to, not anymore. And for the first time in twenty-four days, he let the tears slowly trickle down his cheeks.

I am so sorry that this chapter took so long, and so sorry that it's as crappy as it is. Thanks for all the great reviews, and please keep them up. Reviews, emails, do anything that you can to bother me and make me write the next chapter quicker. It really will help, I promise.


	12. From Red to Black

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 12: From Red to Black

A/N: Too emotionally attached, manda bear? That's too funny… Kerry, I'm impressed. This must have taken you ages to read… Yes, you have to love the M&M's. It's turned into almost a game now, but you'd have to ask Stef about that… Thanks so much for the reviews everyone. Sorry that this chapter's not much better, but I needed to do some explaining and setting up… And sorry about the odd spacing. My computer at school does that for some reason. You know how it is, I'm sure… More action to come, and we're almost through with the angst… Please let me know what you think…

She had pulled herself together after that first incident, the first meeting. Just barely, but she had done it. She hadn't cried anymore, would never cry again. Not while she was in his house, not while he could walk in and see her. She wouldn't let him have the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart.

She waited, knowing that Michael would come, knowing that he would save her. A year ago, she would have gotten out of there as soon as she could have. She wouldn't have waited for Michael; she would have saved herself. But now…

Minutes clicked to hours, and soon it had been more than a day. She knew because she had spent the entire time at the window. She had seen the sun set and rise again, and now the horizon was once again painted in brilliance.

Normally, she would have enjoyed it, would have loved it. But there was nothing to take pleasure in. This wasn't a beautiful sunset that she was watching from her backyard. The colors were the same, the vivid orange and red and purple, melting away to blue, dancing upon the clouds and the tops of the buildings. The colors wouldn't change; the sun would set everywhere.

But here it was different. She didn't have Michael's arms around her. She couldn't turn around and gaze into his eyes, see their sparkling emerald contrast with the deep orange and red hues.

She was… No, she didn't even know where she was. It wasn't Cairo, probably wasn't Egypt either. But aside from that, all she knew was that this place, whatever and wherever it was, belonged not to her and Michael, but that man. And he could walk in at any minute, any second, any time at all...

He did come. She had known that he would. He had to eventually; he couldn't stay away. He would try to touch her, try to kiss and caress her. But she would back away, as fast and as far as she could, as her little baby would let her.

His touch was slimy and greasy. Filthy, dirty, and ugly. It made her shiver, but not out of passion and want as Michael's touch did. This was raw fear and suppressed anger, sadness and worry. She never knew what he would try to do, when she would be able to escape, or when Michael would save her. She never knew when her nightmare would become a reality.

Sydney hadn't slept since she had woken from her drug-induced slumber. She was afraid of what he would do to her, both in reality and in her sleep. She didn't want him to haunt her dreams, and knew that he would. It was inevitable.

She made it successfully through the second night without sleeping. She was so tired, and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. But she wanted to make this last as long as possible; she knew that the second she closed her eyes the nightmares would descend upon her, choking whatever hope and happiness she had left.

Shadya would be coming soon, as she had come for the past few days. She would bring Sydney's food, the red M&M's that he somehow knew about and used to taunt her. If they were any other color, it would have been easy, but red…

It didn't make it any better to close her eyes. The red still taunted her from behind her closed lids. She could still see it, see Michael sorting through the candy dish, picking out every other color: blue, green, orange, yellow, and brown. Michael never ate the red ones. Never. They did taste different, like acid and poison, difficult to stomach, burning their way down.

Somehow, Sydney always managed to choke them down, but only because they were the all he gave her to eat. She knew that she needed some type of food, even if it was as low in nutritional value as the now despised candy-coated pieces. Something would have to keep her and her little baby alive.

Tonight was no different. She crunched reluctantly on the candy, shuddering as she swallowed it and felt it make its way down her throat.

Shadya left, and Sydney was alone. Her eyes became heavy and she somehow made her way to the bed before sleep washed over her.

She woke with a start, her breathing quick and uneasy, sweat glistening on her forehead. The pictures played ruthlessly over and over in her mind. His hands and his face, clear now in the moonlight. His eyes glistening cruelly. His touch threatening to break her. But his laugh…

That's what had shaken her from sleep and kept her from going back to it again, no matter how much her muscles and eyelids protested. She was wide awake now, mind racing and filled with cruelly unforgettable thoughts.

When Shadya returned in the morning, she found Sydney sitting straight up in the middle of the bed, shoulders hunched, and blankets pulled tightly around her. 

And that's how the girl came to find her every morning. And when Shadya brought her the dish of food, less and less was gone as the days passed. For days had swept into weeks, now. And Sydney's hope was beginning to slowly trickle away with the time.

But at least she would still eat. She would hold herself away until she felt the little baby kicking inside her, begging its mother for nourishment and food. Then she would force herself to let some of the candy pass her lips. She would make it stay down, and not let it find its way back up her throat. It wasn't much, but it was all she had, all she could hope for.

And so she survived, just barely, but she survived. Privileged with only a few visits from him. Thanking God that there were days when he wouldn't stop by at all. Those days were what kept her going, and the thought that each day might be one of them pushed her along.

She only had to survive alone until Michael came. He would come, she knew; there was never a doubt in her mind of that. But whether he would come in time was another quite different matter. For she soon realized that time was a factor here. And she didn't have much of it.

He came to her one day. That bastard. A day long after she had lost count of how long it had been since she had arrived, one in which day and night seemed to blend into one. His sudden appearance made her realize that she hadn't seen him in awhile. It had been as close to heaven as this place would ever get.

She was sitting in the chair by the window, as she did every time she wasn't restless enough to pace or tired enough to go to bed. The view from the window allowed a certain amount of freedom, the sky brought her some hope.

"Sydney, my dear," he said, his voice as sugary sweet as poison, "What seems to be the matter?"

If she had had it in her, she would have laughed. But she didn't. She had lost that a long time ago, she didn't remember when.

She didn't answer, hadn't spoken in so long that she didn't know if her voice would have worked if she had tried.

He came closer; she could see his reflection in the window, mirroring back at her, taunting and evil. _Objects in mirror are closer than they appear…_

"Why aren't you eating your food, my love?" he asked, suddenly bringing a hand to rest on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off and turned to face him, eyes angry and dangerous. She didn't have her strength, but she still had her spirit. He hadn't been able to tear it all from her yet.

He laughed, but she wouldn't let herself shudder. When he was gone, she'd go into bed and pull the covers over her ears, and try to drown out the noise, but when he was in the room…

"Sydney, you know that you need your strength for our ba…"

She wouldn't let him finish. "This is not your baby," she hissed. A whisper, that's all she could produce. Her voice was too weak, hadn't been used in too long.

The laughter again, callous and jarring. "Here, my dear." With that, he picked up the untouched bowl of candy, and held it out to her. "You really should eat something."

"No." It was a whisper. It was all she could do.

His eyes were gleaming with unspoken laughter. It was only a matter of time before the sound reached her ears; she could already hear its echo.

"I insist, my dear."

She wouldn't do it, she wouldn't. Michael never ate the red ones…

He didn't change his tone, the laughter never left his eyes. But he suddenly became more dangerous, picking some of the candy pieces from the bowl and holding them before her. "Open up, my love."

She gazed up at him, her eyes a mixture of fury and terror.

His hand was on her chin, the other hovering nearby with the candy. She brought up her hands to push him away, but he simply smiled.

His words were slow and deliberate and poisonous, "You're quite a feisty one, my dear. I'm sure your Michael had quite a time with you in bed…"

That would have been enough, but he continued. He couldn't just kill her spirit, he had to massacre it brutally, chew it up, spit it out, and stomp on the remains…

"As a matter of fact, I know he did. Ah, the wonders of audio and visual surveillance. I have tapes, if you are ever seeking some entertainment…"

And that was more than enough. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry…_ To cry is to show weakness, to show that you've given in. And she wouldn't do that. She wouldn't…

But she didn't have to. Fahim knew she had given in the moment he had spoken those words. He laughed, and pried her mouth open, shoving the candy inside.

"Eat up, my love."

And she did. But only to keep herself from choking. Only because if she hadn't, then the little color-coated pieces would have made their way down her throat, putting a quick end to her pain.

She almost let that happen. Almost made death-by-chocolate more than just a rich dessert. But then her little baby moved inside her, as it had a habit of doing when she needed it most. It reminded her that there was something to live for after all.

But that still didn't make the chocolate any sweeter. It didn't stop it from burning its way down her throat.

He knew that; and he turned and left the room. His smirking face dancing crazily behind her closed eyes.

And this time, she didn't try to stop the candy from making its way back up her throat. She turned away as the waves of nausea swept over her, choking and coughing, continuing to heave long after the contents of her stomach had been empty.

Somehow, when it was over, when she was able to see straight and room wasn't swirling quite as badly, she managed to pull herself out of the chair and make her way to the bed. She wanted so badly to cry, but wouldn't, couldn't.

A chill washed over her, cold sweat dripped down her face and back. And the dreams hadn't even started yet. She hadn't even fallen asleep.

When she awoke a few hours later, shaking and screaming, a pair of arms encircled her, holding her tightly. For a moment she was scared. She thought that he had come into her room, that he was in her bed. Panic swept over her, dizzying her, threatening to choke her…

But these arms were sweet and loving, and she thought for a second that it would be, could be… No, she would have known if it had been him, would have been able to tell as soon as she woke up, even before she opened her eyes.

Michael was not before her, but neither was Fahim. She breathed a sigh of relief at this second realization, and was surprised to find that it was Shadya's arms that were tight around her, that it was the young girl who had somehow found it within her to try to alleviate her pain.

Shadya rocked her gently for a moment, and pulled back. Sydney searched her eyes for an answer, for reassurance. In the dark, she could see that the girl's dark eyes were scared, haunted. And suddenly Sydney knew that the girl had seen hr interaction with Fahim earlier, knew from where she came, and she took the child back into her arms and hugged her.

"It's going to be all right," Sydney whispered into the dark.

And even without hearing, Shadya understood.

She would come every night, after he had had his way with her, and lay down next to Sydney. Although the fact that the girl was next to her was comforting, it could not quell the turmoil of emotions that had been set loose inside of her. It was too late for that.

Slowly, she began to lose track, she began to forget. She would go for days on end without eating, for she would no longer touch the vile red candies. Even the food that Shadya brought her, the bits of bread from the girl's own meager meal, became too much to swallow.

She began to live her nightmare, would see it playing out before her eyes even when they were open and she was awake, until it became too much, too painful even to stay awake.

The window no longer brought her any hope or comfort, for now the nightmare was real and the dream was no longer. It no longer mattered if he didn't come, for he was always there to haunt her, his echoing laugh haunting her ears.

But the worst of all was not that she no longer knew how long she had been there, or even that the window no longer brought her any hope. By far, the worst was the fact that the movement of her little baby no longer reminded her of why she had to live. It no longer brought her joy or hope; it no longer served to comfort her.

Sydney had never been one to give up. But that was back when she was Sydney Bristow, foolish and young, and with nothing but false hope and broken promises. Sydney Vaughn had so much more that was worth living for. And, at the same time, so much more to lose.

She lived in a storm of nightmares and fantasies, overcome by violent chills at one moment and an intense, unbearable heat the next. The headaches descended upon her, blinding her with their ruthless fury.

And that's when it was the worst, when it reached its peak. When she was awake only in the physical sense of the word, shaking with cold and pain, pleading with him not to hurt her, to leave her and her little baby alone. When he wasn't in the room and Shadya would try to alleviate the pain and the fever with a cool cloth, Sydney trying to push her weakly away, not knowing who was in the room with her.

She lived in this stupor for days, becoming so bad, that even Fahim seemed worried.

"Shh, my love," he murmured, as he mopped the sweat from her forehead. "It will be all right."

And that's when she began to cry.

Her spirit had been crushed, and Fahim almost considered sending her back home. She wouldn't be any good to him this way. It wouldn't be worth it to spend the time and money to feed and take care of her, she wouldn't be any fun.

But he didn't send her away. He didn't get a chance to do it before it happened.

Sydney awoke from a fitful sleep to find herself alone. She gasped with the sharp pain that had wakened her, the pain that for once, was not just coming from her head.

She brought a hand down to her stomach, as if realizing for the first time in days that her little baby was still there.

The pain receded quickly, only to return again at intervals that came closer and closer together. She was able to ignore the pain for awhile, letting her body absorb it and become numb, as it had been wont to do in the past weeks. But soon it returned with such strength and force, knocking the wind from her and bringing tears to her eyes.

She pulled herself out of bed, knowing what was happening, but not what to do. It was too soon, too soon. But there was nothing she could do about that. Not here. Not now.

She knew who she needed, who should be there. The one to make it better, to make it right. To hold her hand, to kiss away the pain, to look into her eyes and make it all worth it.

"Vaughn," she whispered, stumbling from the bed and across the room. "Please, Vaughn…"

Swirling and panicked and agonizingly painful. The room swam around her, in and out of focus, transforming to one thing and then another; the room of her dreams, the room of her nightmares… Faces appeared before her, flashing before her eyes: her father, her mother, Fahim, Vaughn… The little baby raised above her, dripping in the insufferable moonlight… Laughter. Tears… Kisses, sweet and soft, urgent and passionate… Anger. Sadness. Despair… Red M&M's threatening to pelt her, choke her… _Don't say you're sorry, Syd. Don't ever say you're sorry…_

A bright light, startling and painful. Her angel appeared in the doorway, but it couldn't be, it couldn't be. 

"Vaughn…"

Darkness swirled down upon her, bringing an end to the pain…


	13. Her Guardian Angel

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 13: Her Guardian Angel

They stepped inside. Another day, another building, and most likely another failure. All was quiet. Nothing seemed out of place, nothing seemed any different.

Vaughn quietly surveyed his surroundings, prayers running through his head. The French Hail Mary had become his mantra now. Like a incantation, something to keep his mind of the task at hand, the thought that he was still looking for her, hadn't found her yet.

It had worked at first, but the glamour was quickly wearing off. He now recited the words without thinking, keeping them always in his mind.

"We should split up," Jack whispered.

Under normal circumstances, on any other mission, Vaughn would have disagreed with him, would have commented on the danger of it, and how there is strength in numbers. But he simply nodded, and the two men went their separate ways.

There was no need for further explanation, to differentiate who would take which floors, or when to use the radios. Everything was implied, everything understood. They had become good at this on the third infiltration, like old partners. By the eighth one, everything had become habit.

Vaughn made his way up the stairs. He would begin at the top of the building and work his way down. One flight, two flights, three, then four.

He knew somehow, that this would be the one, that this would be where he will find her. But, of course, that's what he had thought the last time, and the time before that. That's what he had thought every time. He had had an instinct, a hunch.

And every time, he had been proven wrong. He no longer trusted his instincts. He still followed the song of his heart, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't with the same amount of vigor and enthusiasm.

It was almost as if he were going through the motions, following his instincts because that's what he's supposed to do, not because he thought that they'd be right. There was no more hope; he'd given up on that.

Silence followed him, seeming to taunt him. It was when he was on his way up the fifth flight of stairs that he heard a noise. Boots and whispering. The click of one gun, and then another.

So it was different this time. There were guards; two of them. And they were ready, prepared for action. It wasn't like all the times before, when he would find some old, half-crazy hermit left in the building, someone who had some piece of information that would lead him on, but no real clues.

Maybe there was some hope after all…

Footsteps, coming closer and closer. And then he saw them. He no longer waited to see if they would tell him anything, if they had any data to offer. He no longer counted to ten.

Instead he counted the bullets. _Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix…_ They had been dead on the first shot. Two, maybe, for the second one, because he had had a chance to move.

But still Vaughn unloaded all ten. Every time. That was all he ever counted anymore, watching as the blood oozed out of the bullet holes, trying to remember that that blood wasn't hers…

He followed the stairs to the top and stepped out into the hall, began looking in one door after another down one side of the hallway. He was quickly coming to the end, and tried to remind himself that he still had the other half of the hallway, still had all the other floors of the building…

Those reminders don't work, and his search became more frantic, tearing in and out of the rooms, forgetting stealth and silence, thinking only of her…

The crackling of the radio broke his concentration, and Jack's voice came through the static.

"…c…in…nee…stance…mediately…fa…here…"

Silence, dead and eerie. Vaughn suddenly pulled himself together, preparing to turn, preparing to run, find Jack, and get him out of there.

But then he heard it. A small scream. Barely audible, but there.

It could have been anyone. It could have been anything. But he knew that it wasn't. Whether talking, laughing, crying, whispering, shouting…

It was her. He knew it.

He raced in the direction of the sound, opening door after door. The last room in the hall was dark, he'd begun to doubt that he actually heard the scream. He thought that he saw a shape huddled on the floor, but he could have just been imagining that too.

And then he saw the red glistening in the moonlight. No, no, no, no…

"Vaughn…"

~~

"You called me Vaughn…"

"I call you Vaughn sometimes."

"This was different, Syd. It was like we were back there, in the hospital after…after it happened. I don't want to end up like that again…I'm not taking any chances…"

~~

Oh God, Sydney…

"Vaughn…"

He could hardly hear her voice; it is just the barest of whispers. Her body was hunched over and she was lying on the ground. Without wasting another second, he had her in his arms.

"Syd?" Open your eyes, please Syd, open your eyes…

She did, thank God she did. He put his arms tighter around her, afraid to let her go. But instead of her returning his embrace, she struggled against him, trying to get away.

"No, no, no…"

"Shh, Syd. Everything's gonna be all…"

She finally succeeded in pushing him away. He let her pull back a little, but kept his hands on her shoulders. He used this chance to take a good look at her, at the wife he had been searching for, the wife he had missed and had thought he would never find again…

Her cheeks were thin and painted a fiery red, her cheekbones and collarbone protruding from her body. But that wasn't even the worst. Her eyes, once bright and sparkling, were feverish and haunted. She no longer maintained that healthy glow. He had found her. Finally, he had found her, but had it been in time…

Sydney still tried to push further away from him, genuinely frightened. Suddenly she stopped, and he thought, for just a minute, that maybe she finally understood, knew it was him, that he wouldn't hurt her, would never hurt her…

But she gasped and doubled over, bringing a hand to her stomach and the little baby that was there.

And then he understood the new gravity of the situation. Knew that this wasn't just about him and Sydney anymore, it was about their little baby too. Oh God, their little baby. It was too soon, too soon…

"Vaughn…" she whimpered, still trying to pull further away. And he knew that she was wishing for him to be there, that she didn't know that he already was. If only he could make her understand, make her realize that everything would be okay now, that she didn't have to worry anymore.

The tears were trickling down her cheeks, a mixture of fear and pain and no doubt anger.

He brought his hand to her face, gently caressing it and wiping away the tears in a gesture so sweet, so tender, that she had to know…

She froze, didn't pull away. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in the slightest whisper of a kiss, slowly pulling back.

He saw something flash through her eyes: realization, understanding.

"Vaguhn." It was still a whisper. And he was still Vaughn. But it was better than nothing, and he would take all he could get.

"Yes, baby, I'm here," he murmured, bringing her into his arms again and relishing in the fact that this time, she hugged him back.

"My guardian angel," he heard her whimper through her tears. "You found me, Vaughn, you found me…"

"Oh, Sydney, I would never stop looking for you. Never. Not in a million years."

He kissed her cheek, felt her fiery skin against his. God, she was burning up. He tried to pull away, to help her to her feet and get her out of there, but she wasn't ready to let him go just yet.

"I love you, Vaughn. I love you."

"I love you too, Syd, with all my heart. God, I've missed you so much."

He held her for awhile, rocking her back and forth gently, giving her back some strength, some hope, waiting for her to regain what she had lost, hoping that he could find some way to help for resurrect her spirit, her soul, praying that not all had been lost…

Vaughn turned toward her and took her lips with his. Slowly, sweetly, gently. He could feel the fever even there, and that was the only thing that kept him from ravishing her, that made him keep it sweet and slow, not allowing her to try to speed it up.

This kiss wasn't for passion and longing. It wasn't to try make up for all the days that he hadn't been able to kiss her, that she couldn't kiss him. There would be time for that later. Now was for reassurance, for hope, for…

Sydney's teeth came crashing together on his bottom lip and she whimpered. He could taste the blood, but held back a yell. She had pulled away from him and was hunched over again, gasping for breath and squeezing his hand tightly.

"I'm…sorry…Michael…" she managed to gasp.

Michael. Thank God he was Michael, but…

"Don't say you're sorry, Syd. Don't ever say you're sorry."

How many times had he said that to her? How many times had he thought it? She never needed to apologize to him. Ever…

She nodded and squeezed his hand even tighter. "Oh God, Michael…"

That's when he began to get nervous, began to get scared. He knew that this was normal, that there was a good amount of pain associated with pregnancy and childbirth. But he also knew that their little baby wasn't due for another three weeks (or God, was it four? He had lost track of the days long ago…) and that Sydney looked like she could barely hold herself up, forget survive labor…

But, he had to remain strong. For Sydney. For their little baby. He had missed out on a lot of time with them in the past weeks, but he was here now, and that's all that mattered. He would do what he could.

"Come on, Syd. We have to get you out of here."

She nodded again, but didn't move. Vaughn raised her hand to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

"Sweetie, I'm here now. And I…" 

He didn't want to say it, didn't want to make another promise that he knew he might not be able to keep. But he knew that she needed reassurance, needed whatever promises she could get. And he would just as soon as kiss Fahim before he would let himself break this promise to her…

"…I promise you that everything will be alr…"

But he didn't get to finish. Perhaps it was fate. Someone, somewhere knew that he wouldn't be able to keep this promise, wouldn't be able to assure her of that, and so kept him from giving her false hope.

He was interrupted by a groan and a voice from the doorway. "Michael, Sydney's here… Find her… Get her…out of…here…"

It was Jack, crawling across the floor towards the room. He stopped in the doorway, breathing heavily, and rested his head on his hands.

"Daddy?" Sydney whispered.

"Jack, I…" Vaughn began, keeping a hand on Sydney's shoulder, but moving closer to the door, unsure of whether to take care of his wife or his father-in-law.

"Agent Vaughn," Jack managed to get out. "Get my daughter out of here…That…is…an order…"

Vaughn nodded and reached down to his waist, pulling the radio out, changing the frequency and bringing it up to his mouth.

"This…this is…" Remember the correct frequency, remember the code words, remember the situation, and talk fast. "Papa Bear to Base. Requesting medical assistance."

"Copy th…" Crackling and silence. Vaughn could only hope that they had understood, that they would get here in time.

He turned from Jack to Sydney. Even if he offered it, Jack wouldn't accept his help. And Jack could manage on his own. Sydney, however, was beginning to wobble. She shook her head, as if to clear out the dizziness, and held out her arm for Vaughn to steady her.

"Whoa…"

"Syd, we have to get you to the hospital."

He reached over and pulled her into his arms, surprised at how light she was, even with the baby, disgusted that he could feel her bones, his anger flaring up. That's when he noticed that the red he had seen on the floor earlier, glistening mercilessly in the moonlight was not a puddle, was not blood.

M&M's. Red M&M's.

The anger burned through his blood, threatening to incinerate him. He almost lost it right then and there, almost gave in to the anger, but Sydney's sweet voice brought him back to reality.

"But what about…?"

"Sydney. Go," Jack spat out forcefully, reverting back to his old ways. All his sympathy and kindness disappeared with the increasing gravity of the situation.

"Sydney," Vaughn murmured, kissing her forehead. It was so warm, too warm. For some reason, that scared him more than anything. But he wouldn't think about that now. About how sick Sydney had become, how close he had come to losing her. He focused his attention on her eyes, but even there, he could see their feverish glow, knew that not everything was right. God, he could still lose her, but…

"In a little while, we're going to have a beautiful little baby..."

Why did this have to be so difficult? Why couldn't he just have to worry about having to do something useful, like…boiling water or folding towels? God, he would give anything to be sitting next to Sydney in the hospital now, with her squeezing his hand so tightly that he could almost hear his fingers cracking, and telling him that if he ever did anything to put her through this hell again…

"…Syd, you're going to be a mom, and you're going to give our son or daughter the best you have…"

He heard Jack groan softly, but fought the impulse to look over at him. Eye contact. He needed to maintain eye contact. Needed to reassure her, to get her to believe him, to let her know without telling her that everything was going okay. Everything…

"…But in order for you to do that, our little baby's going to need you to be healthy, and…"

"Michael?" she interrupted softly.

She brought a hand up to caress his cheek and he looked into her deep, dark eyes.

"You're going to be a daddy."

He mirrored her bright smile. God, when was the last time either of them had smiled?

"Ah, I hate to break up this little reunion, but…"

The smiles disappeared just as quickly as the sun right before a sudden rain storm on a beautiful summer's day. That voice. Anything but that voice…

And the laugh. He swore that he felt Sydney flinch in his arms, knew that she turned her head away from the figure in the doorway, hiding her face in his shirt.

"No, no, don't let me interrupt… I find these reunions so touching. Keep going, but please, do try to speed it up…"

Sydney gasped again, biting her lip to keep from crying out. She clutched at Vaughn, and he gladly let her squeeze the air out of him. He tightened his arms around her. It's going to be all right, Syd. It's going to be all right…

"…For it looks like my child is going to be born soon…"

"This is not your child," Vaughn said slowly through clenched teeth.

"Well," Fahim began, eyes gleaming. "I believe you should rethink your decision…"

"Michael…" Sydney whimpered, tears in her eyes.

"…for it's the only way if…" He paused, his lips forming into an evil grin. He reached down underneath his jacket, slowly pulling something out…

"…you want to keep your precious baby alive."

Fire and ice and venom and poison and sin…

He pulled out a gun and aimed it at Sydney.

"You… You wouldn't dare…" Vaughn stammered, trying not to panic. His voice still cold and froze, his eyes still malicious, but he reeked with fear. He could smell it, wafting around him, threatening to give away his emotions…

"Or would I?"

Cruel, dangerous, toxic, threatening…

"Vaughn…" 

Dammit! Back to yesterday, back to Vaughn… There was no mistaking the fear in her voice. The fear that he knew would be in his own, if he could find it in him to form the words.

He was supposed to be her guardian angel, supposed to be able to save her from anything, to keep her from being afraid.

What the hell kind of guardian angel am I?

But he didn't have time to consider, didn't have time to think, to plan, to find a way out of there.

A shot echoed through the room.

And all he had time to do was turn in an attempt to keep Sydney out of danger, and pray…

Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grâce, Le Seigneur est avec vous …

~~

Okay, um… cliffhanger anyone? Sorry… So, please review, and let me know what you think… I hope it's not that bad… I'm trying, really…


	14. The Way It's Supposed To Be

Shattered Paradise

Chapter 14: The Way It's Supposed To Be

__

…Vous êtes bénie entre toutes les femmes, et Jésus, le fruit de vos entrailles, est béni. Sainte Marie, Mére de Dieu, priez pour nous, pauvres pécheurs, maintenant et â l'heure de notre mort. Amen… Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grâce, Le Seigneur est avec vous…

Her eyes fluttered open. He had never seen a sight more beautiful in his life. She blinked with the shock of the bright, sterile lights before focusing on him.

"Vaughn."

So, he was still Vaughn, but God, he didn't care. Just to hear her voice, to hear her call him something, to know that she recognized him, knew his name…

He shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. Now wasn't for focusing on the could-have-beens or the ifs, it was for reveling in what he still had.

"Sydney. Oh honey, I've been so worried about you…" He brought his lips to her forehead. The feverish glow was still twinkling in her eyes, but her skin felt a lot cooler against his lips.

He heard her sigh with contentment as he pulled away. "Vaughn? What…what happened?"

Sydney suddenly brought a hand down to her now nearly flat stomach and her eyes grew wide. "Vaughn…" she whimpered, tears filling her eyes and her lower lip trembling.

"Shh, baby…" He ran a hand through her hair, brushing a stray strand behind her ear. "You need your rest."

"But Vaughn. Our little baby…" A single tear dripped from her eyelashes and made its way slowly down her cheek, the first raindrop sliding down the window pane during a soft spring storm.

"Oh no, Syd," Vaughn responded, giving her a sweet smile and kissing the tear from her cheek. He pulled the sheet down to her waist and lifted her shirt, running his finger gently along the stapled incision on her stomach.

"We have a little girl, Syd," he murmured, bringing her shirt back down and pulling the sheet up. He brought his face close to hers. "And she's tiny, but beautiful. She's perfect, Sydney. And she's ours."

She smiled and he placed a sugary sweet kiss on her lips, before pulling away and lacing his fingers with hers.

"Now, Syd, they'll bring in the baby in a few minutes, but first, I think you should hear what happened…"

Vaughn waited for the longest second of his life, expecting to feel the impact of the bullet or feel it whizzing past him, too close for comfort.

Sydney had gone limp in his arms. But bringing his ear to her lips revealed the short, tiny breaths, and he hadn't felt her jostled. So, she couldn't have been shot, she couldn't have…

He heard the impact and someone groan, almost afraid to turn around and see who it was. Fahim or Jack. It was too much to wish for, too much to hope…

The groaning continued, a pained voice suddenly added to it. "Why, you little whore…"

Vaughn turned around. There was no mistaking the painful wheezing in that poisonous voice. Fahim had his back to him and the blood glistened and oozed from a hole in his side. He was facing a figure in the doorway.

A young woman… no a girl was standing there, a pistol held tightly in her shaking hand.

"Dammmit, bitch! When I get my hands on you…"

The girl didn't move, oblivious to his harsh words and threats, frozen with fear.

Fahim was advancing on her, a string of obscenities flowing from his mouth as quickly as the blood flowing down his back.

"Run! Get back!" Vaughn managed to yell. But the girl did not respond. His head seemed to be swirling in a million different directions. Sydney, Jack, Fahim, the girl, Sydney, the girl, Fahim, Sydney…

Fahim had his hand at the girl's throat. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she was struggling to breathe, but other than that, she did not make a sound.

Vaughn knew he had no choice. He placed Sydney gently on the bed in the back of the room and ran over to Fahim. He punched him forcefully in the side of the head, and Fahim was thrown back with the blow, forcing him to release his hold on the girl's neck. She sunk to the ground, gasping for breath.

With a reassuring glance in her direction, Vaughn tore the gun from her hand. Fahim was staggering toward him, gun drawn. Vaughn aimed the pistol at Fahim and shot it before the other man would have a chance to fire his.

One shot, in the chest, immediately exploding Fahim's black heart of stone. His lifeless body sunk to the ground; he would never bother the Vaughn family again.

Vaughn glanced at the girl, who was peering uneasily up at him from where she knelt on the floor. Besides the marks on her neck, she appeared unhurt.

He ran over to the bed where he had left Sydney. She was still unconscious, but still alive. Alive and once again in his arms, that's all that mattered.

He scooped her up and held her close to him, kissing her damp forehead. Glancing over her again, he realized how close she had come to dying, to letting herself die. That was when he knew that their little baby was the one thing that kept her alive. Their hero. 

Vaughn kissed Sydney's stomach, silently thanking his unborn child for saving its mother's life. But that one sweet, silent moment was shattered with the sound of footsteps running down the hall.

Vaughn closed his eyes. Not again, not again, not again. Not when he had come so close. Not now, that he had her back. Not when Fahim was finally gone.

There was nothing he could do but let them come. There were too many liabilities, too many pairs of boots storming through the hall, too many people that he had to take care of. Maybe if he surrendered, if he gave himself up to them, they would let Sydney and the others go. He would do it. He would do it for her…

Eyes shut tight against what he was afraid to see. Other senses focused on nothing but the woman in his arms. The love of his life. _His_ guardian angel.

"Agent Vaughn…"

Someone was shaking his arm. And how the hell did they know his name…?

"Agent Vaughn, we have operatives taking care of the girl and Agent Bristow, we just need to get you and…"

"What about my father?" Sydney asked quietly.

"What?" Vaughn asked, shaken from his memory.

"My father," Sydney repeated, playing with Vaughn's fingers. "My father and Shadya. What happened to them?"

"They repaired the wound that your father had received and he's resting comfortably. The girl is fine, as well. Traumatized by whatever that bastard did to her, and they discovered that she's deaf, but she'll be fine."

Sydney nodded and closed her eyes.

"Are you okay, baby?" Vaughn asked, his eyes clouded with concern.

"Mmm," she answered. "I'm fine, now."

Maybe now they'd have the chance. Maybe now they could live like a normal family, get back all those years they had missed, they had lost. Maybe, just maybe…

"Michael?" Sydney had opened her dark eyes and was gazing seriously up at him. "Thank you."

"Sydney, you never have to thank me," Vaughn murmured in between the kisses he showered on her forehead, cheeks, eyes, and nose. "I love you more than words can say…"

"Mr. Vaughn?" a voice called from the doorway. "Ah, Mrs. Vaughn, you're awake. Feeling better?"

Sydney nodded and Vaughn turned to see a nurse standing in the doorway, holding a tiny bundle in her arms.

"Wonderful. Now, I believe I have a visitor who would be interested in seeing you…" the nurse continued, coming closer and nodding to the bundle she held in her arms.

"Michael…" Sydney whispered in awe, holding his hand tightly.

Vaughn kissed her forehead as the nurse placed the baby in her arms.

"We got her to take some formula, but she'll be hungry again soon, so I'll be back in awhile to show you how to feed her."

Sydney was too caught up in the moment to answer, so Vaughn nodded his thanks and the nurse left them alone.

"Here I am with my girls," Vaughn murmured. He had never thought that this day would come. And now that it had, he wished that he never had to leave it again. Everything was so perfect, so calm and right. If he could freeze time and live in one moment forever, this one would be it.

"How could we have made something so beautiful, so perfect?" Sydney whispered after a moment.

"She takes after her mother," Vaughn answered, unable to take his eyes off his two girls.

"And her father," Sydney responded. At that moment, the baby stirred and opened her eyes, peering up at her two doting parents. 

"Green eyes," Sydney whispered, turning to Vaughn and giving him a smile so beautiful and so bright that he could barely contain the love and desire he felt for her. "Our baby has green eyes."

Vaughn swallowed and nodded, bringing a hand up to run it through her hair. He drew his head slowly closer to hers until they were just inches apart, all the while never breaking eye contact with her.

Sydney sighed softly and closed her eyes. He placed a syrupy-sweet kiss on her lips, unable to resist them any longer. She pulled him closer, careful to keep the baby out of the way. Her lips were hot, the fire of passion augmenting the heat of the fever.

She pulled back after only a few seconds and leaned back against the pillow, already gasping for breath. Vaughn's forehead wrinkled with concern, but she smiled reassuringly at him.

"What should we name her?" Sydney asked after a moment, motioning toward the tiny miracle she held in her arms.

Vaughn glanced down at his daughter and thought for a moment. "I bought a baby name book a few weeks ago and I was flipping through it at the airport. I have no idea where it is now, but there's one name that I remember. Now, I don't know if you'll like it, so just tell me if you don't, but…"

"Michael," Sydney interrupted, smiling at her husband's flustered look. "What is it?"

"Hailey," Vaughn answered quietly. "It means hero."

"Hailey," Sydney whispered, trying the name out on her tongue. "I love you, Hailey Vaughn." She gazed up at Vaughn and smiled. "It's perfect."

A week later, Sydney, Michael, and Hailey Michaela Vaughn walked up the steps to the front door of their home. Vaughn smiled down at his daughter and kissed his wife before reaching down to unlock the door.

It opened before he put the key in the lock, revealing his sister, Jacqueline, his mother, and a sea of faces behind them.

"Welcome home!"

His wife and daughter were pulled out of his arms before he even had a chance to respond. His mother, his sister, his brother-in-law, Kerri and Seth, Aunt Trish, Will, Eric, Francie…

"She's beautiful!"

"We're so glad you're back!"

"Auntie Syddy!"

"Sadie, you gave us quite a scare…"

Vaughn had been looking forward to going back to a quiet home and relaxing with his wife and daughter, but on second thought, being surrounded by family and friends was better.

He finally made his way through the door and began to greet everyone.

"Oh, my Michael!" his mother cried, wrapping him in a hug and giving him a kiss. "You made it back!"

"Of course I did, Mom," he smiled.

"And you brought Sydney, and my little angel, Hailey… but where's Jack?"

"He's resting and letting his wounds heal. He'll be back in a few weeks."

"Wonderful. You were always such a smart boy, Michael," Mrs. Vaughn said, giving her son a lipstick-smudging kiss.

Vaughn laughed and untangled himself from his mother's embrace. He tried to make his way over to Sydney. She was holding up remarkably well, but was still tired and frail.

"Hey, Mike!" Weiss called, wrapping an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Beautiful little girl you have there," he said and then added, "Both of them…" He glanced over at Sydney. "I heard about everything that happened. She looks a little… Is she gonna be all right?"

"Yeah," Vaughn nodded, following his friend's gaze. "She'll be fine."

"Hey, what happened with that Shady Girl?" Weiss asked after a moment.

"Shadya?" Vaughn laughed. "She was taken into protective custody and brought into the States. She's going daily to therapy, and should find a family for her soon."

"That's good," Weiss nodded. "Poor girl."

Vaughn patted his friend on the shoulder and walked across the room to Sydney.

"Hi gorgeous," he whispered in her ear. She leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her. Her eyes were still a little glassy and her cheeks had become flushed with the stress of all the excitement. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm fine, Michael."

Vaughn rocked her gently back and forth. "Don't pull this crap with me, Syd."

"What?" she asked, turning in his arms.

He kissed her forehead. "You feel a little warm. Let's go sit down."

"Where's Hailey?" she asked.

Vaughn glanced around the room. "Francie's got her. She's fine."

He led Sydney over to the couch and they sat down. She leaned her head on his shoulder and he put her arm around her. "I'm here, Syd. Don't pretend that you don't need help. Let me pamper you."

She smiled up at him. "Okay."

The two of them sat there and watched as Hailey was passed from person to person.

"Hey Syd?" Vaughn asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"This is the way that it's supposed to be, you know?" he said, wrapping his arm tighter around her.

Sydney nodded and snuggled closer to him, but as she did, he pulled away.

"Hey…" Sydney cried, but her protests were silenced by Vaughn's lips, and she sighed happily into him.

"You have no idea how much I missed doing that," he whispered.

"Mmm… I think I have an idea," Sydney murmured as she pulled away. "Yeah…" she pulled him back to her again, relishing in the fact that they were together and they were home.

"Hey, Uncle Mikey!" A little voice called. Vaughn pulled away and saw Seth approaching them.

"Yeah, little man?"

Seth stopped in front of them and put his hands on his hips. "No kissing! Hawey's a tiny baby and she doesn't like kissing."

"Sorry, babe," Sydney laughed.

"Auntie Syddy," Seth began, climbing up on the couch next to her. "No more playing hide and go seek until you learn the rules."

"Got it," Sydney answered, smiling and leaning her head back on Vaughn's shoulder.

"Pinky promise?" the little boy asked, holding out his little finger to her.

"Pinky promise," Sydney affirmed, linking her finger with the little boys and shaking her hand.

"Good," Seth nodded after a moment. "Now we're all set."

Sydney nodded and she, Vaughn, and Seth sat in silence for a moment.

"Jacky," Sydney called, spotting Vaughn's sister with Hailey. "Can I have my baby girl?"

"Of course," Jacqueline answered, coming over and laying the baby in her arms. "Come on, Seth," she said, taking her son's hand and leading him off the couch.

"Now this," Vaughn said, taking his daughter's hand and planting a kiss on Sydney's forehead, "is the way it's supposed to be."

Now, I hope that ending at least partially makes up for having to make you wait so long. I'm very very sorry, but hey, just keep in mind that now that it's finished, you won't have to wait anymore! Thanks for reading!


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